First Days
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: The inmates of Arkham Asylum take a trip down memory lane and recall their respective first days in the institution for the criminally insane. Aside from Joker, who seems to have always been there...
1. Chapter 1

**First Days**

"All right, where is it?" demanded the Joker, looking around at the assembled group of inmates in Arkham Asylum's Rec Room with his hands on his hips.

"Where is what?" asked Poison Ivy, not looking up from her gardening show on TV.

"Don't act all innocent – you know what!" snapped Joker. "Because you stole it! Or someone in here did! It wouldn't surprise me if you're all in this together in order to humiliate me!"

"That seems highly unlikely, considering how our team-ups always end," commented Jervis Tetch, as he moved a white knight on the chess game he was playing against Jonathan Crane. "We're not known to play well together."

"Yes, but the urge to show me up was just too much to resist, wasn't it, nerd?" demanded Joker. "Don't deny it!"

"Why don't you just tell us plainly what you're talking about?" asked Two-Face, looking up from his book. "Talking like this, you're worse than the Riddle guy."

"You take that back!" snapped Joker. "I am nothing like that freak! And I am talking about the thing you all stole from me while I was in therapy this morning, you lame bunch of losers!"

"Well, it certainly wasn't your wit which was stolen from you – that's as razor sharp as ever," commented Crane sarcastically, countering Tetch's knight with his bishop.

"Aw, I bet you wish somebody would steal your wit from you, Craney – then you might get to lose a few other things too, like your virginity," sneered Joker. "As it is, you're stuck as dame-repellent forever. Now who the hell stole my Twinkie?!"

"Really? That's what this is about?" asked Ivy. "Some disgusting snack food made of stale processed sugar?"

"Ok, first of all, Twinkies are delicious!" snapped Joker. "And second of all, you can't get them in this dump that easily, even though they're readily available in all good supermarkets since the shortage scare of 2012, when you better believe I stocked up! You don't wanna know how I smuggled this one in here originally, but I had been saving it for a very long time, waiting for a special occasion, since they last forever. And now somebody's stolen it from me, and when I find out who it is, the special occasion that I've been saving it for will be shoving it down their throat so they choke to death! So which one of you morons was it?!"

"Why would anybody confess when you threaten them with horrible death for doing so?" asked Tetch. "That's nonsense, if you'll forgive me saying so."

"That sounds kinda like a confession to me, Hatty," snapped Joker.

"I don't even know what a Twinkie is," retorted Tetch. "We don't have those things in England."

"So that's why you stole it – the lure of the exotic!" exclaimed Joker. "You never had one of those, and you just had to find out what everyone was raving about."

"I never heard anybody rave about them before," retorted Tetch. "And frankly, since you're the one doing the raving, I'm even less inclined to ever have one than I was before."

"So you stole it to spite me, not to eat it!" said Joker.

"J, nobody stole your stupid Twinkie," retorted Ivy. "And frankly, even if someone did, it's not worth getting upset about. It's not like it was a valuable piece of property. Honestly, that's what you get for leaving something around the group of notorious thieves and villains stuck in here."

"Wow, don't flatter yourself, guys," retorted Joker. "You are the lowest of the low, as evidenced by the fact that you stole a goddamn Twinkie! And I'm now starting to think it was you, Pammie, protesting too much like that!"

"Well, Sherlock, I'm afraid this is one case you're way off the bat with," retorted Ivy. "I wouldn't touch or eat that insult to my babies' deaths - it's not bad enough that you murder sugarcane, but then you add chemicals to it to embalm it in order to consume it. It's like people eating mummies."

"I would try it," said Joker, shrugging. "I would try anything once, except folk dancing and incest. But all this talk of mummies and folk dancing and incest is getting me off the topic of the Twinkie thief, which was possibly your plan all along, Pammie!"

"You're an idiot," she retorted. "I hope that Twinkie is gone forever."

"Did you ask Harley?" asked Two-Face. "She's probably the only one who knew you had a Twinkie in here."

"Harley wouldn't steal from me – she loves me!" snapped Joker. "Anyway, she didn't know about the Twinkie. No one did."

"So how could anyone have stolen it from you?" asked Crane. "If nobody knew about it, I mean."

"Someone obviously stumbled across it, genius!" snapped Joker.

"Well, where did you have it hidden?" asked Crane.

"Someplace where I thought nobody would stumble across it!" snapped Joker. "The admissions cabinet in the records room."

"It was probably one of the doctors, then," replied Crane. "While they were admitting a new patient or something. Why don't you go interrogate them?"

"No, this was the admissions cabinet from way back!" snapped Joker. "Nobody ever opens it because there's three inches of dust all over it, and because it contains all our original admission records, which have been filed away and completely forgotten!"

"Jesus, that is a long time ago," agreed Two-Face. "I bet the doctors were all so hopeful back at the beginning. But how times have changed."

"I don't think I even remember my first day here," said Ivy. "It was that long ago, and probably that unremarkable."

"I remember mine very clearly," said Tetch. "It's not the sort of thing one forgets. What about you, Joker? Do you remember your first day in here?"

Joker frowned. "I'm not sure I had a first day, come to think of it," he muttered. "I think I've just always been in here. Just like I was always the caretaker of the Overlook Hotel in that one movie, or at least the actor who played me was…"

"J, you had a first day," interrupted Ivy. "Everyone had a first day here."

"You just said you don't remember yours," said Joker, sticking his tongue out. "So how do you know you had one?"

"Oh, I remember a little of it," sighed Ivy, flicking off the TV. "You were already here, J, but you were the only one I remember clearly."

"I am kinda hard to forget," agreed Joker, nodding.

"This was after I had just tried to murder Harvey for destroying my babies," continued Ivy, ignoring him.

"Boy, you have to keep bringing that up," muttered Two-Face.

"I don't specifically remember much else, but there's gotta be some notes in that filing cabinet, right?" asked Ivy, standing up. "Let's go take a look."

"We can't just barge into the records office in broad daylight," said Crane. "We're meant to be locked in the cell block."

"Aw, widdle rule follower," cooed Joker, ruffling his hair. "Bless his ickle heart! Until you lose that goody-two-shoes mentality, you definitely won't be losing your virginity, pal."

"I am not a rule follower!" snapped Crane. "Which is why I'm an inmate in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane!"

"Well, you sure ain't a bad boy," retorted Joker. "And dames love a bad boy."

"Some women do," retorted Ivy. "Some women also like nice guys. We're a diverse group of people with different preferences, surprisingly."

"Well, nobody in here likes nice guys, that's for darn sure," retorted Joker. "You only really fell for Harv after he went all bipolar – before then you were just using him in order to kill him, which makes you a dame after my own heart."

"I think Harley would be interested to know that," snapped Ivy.

"Harley would be interested to know what?" asked Harley Quinn, entering the room at that moment.

"I thought you were in therapy, Harl," said Joker, turning to her.

"I was, but then Dr. Leland had to cut it short," said Harley, nodding. "Apparently all the guards did a mass walkout in order to protest for better pay and working conditions, so she's got her hands full with that now."

"Perfect distraction!" exclaimed Joker. "Ok, let's go, guys!"

"Where are we going?" asked Harley, as they all filed out of the Rec Room.

"To the records office to see our old admission records," explained Tetch. "I think everyone's in the mood for a walk down memory lane. Do you remember your first day here, Harley?"

"You mean as a doctor, or as a patient?" asked Harley.

"Whichever you like," replied Tetch.

"Oh yeah, I remember them both clearly," said Harley, nodding. "Different set of circumstances, of course. You were all already here before me though – I think I must have been the last in this group to arrive as a patient here."

"Well, these look to be in order of arrival," said Ivy, as they entered the records office and she opened the dusty file cabinet. "Yep, here's Harley's on top," she said, handing it to her. "And then we've got Tetch, Dent, Crane, me…"

Her eyes narrowed. "Weird. I can't find you in here, J," she said, flicking through the records.

"I told you, I've always been the caretaker," retorted Joker.

"Don't be ridiculous – it was probably just misplaced or something," said Ivy. "I'll keep looking," she added, opening random folders.

"This was a great day," sighed Harley, glancing over her file. "I think everybody's probably heard about my first day here as a doctor, when I met Mr. J's eyes across a crowded cell block like in the great romantic songs, but I don't think anybody's heard about my first day as a patient, which was even better."

"We remember it – we were literally all there," retorted Two-Face.

"But it would be nice for you to refresh our memory, my dear," added Crane.

"Well, for those of you who haven't heard it, I'll recap my first day here as a doctor…" began Harley.

"No, we've all heard that story a million times," interrupted Ivy. "And frankly, I was sick of it the first time. You saw J, he winked at you, and that disgusting objectification of you by an entitled man was all it took for you to abandon your sense of professionalism and ethics and dedicate your life to a disgusting abuser by becoming his willing and eager slave."

"No, Red, it wasn't like that at all!" snapped Harley. "Apparently you haven't heard the story often enough! I mean, he did wink at me, and I thought he was really cute, and then he left me a flower in my office like a sweetheart, but we got to know each other through our sessions first before I jumped him so hard he got sofa burns on his back. Which is how I think it always should be – the best relationships are based on mutual trust and respect and friendship, and not just how good you are together physically. Although that's dynamite, and sometimes literally involves it."

"Are you actually trying to say your relationship is a 'best' relationship, and that it's based on mutual trust, respect, and friendship?" demanded Ivy. "How delusional are you? Didn't he just tell you a pack of lies about his past at your sessions together?"

"Yeah, but I knew even then he was the one," sighed Harley. "Anyway, he doesn't lie to me anymore, at least, not about important things."

"Only when it's convenient for me to do so," agreed Joker, nodding. "That's a big step when you think I used to do it all the time just for fun."

"Yeah, you've really reformed him," sighed Ivy, rolling her eyes. "I think I told you that you never would on your first day as a patient here."

"Oh yeah, I guess that was our first real meeting!" agreed Harley, beaming. "What a great day in so many ways! And I remember it as if it were yesterday…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Patient: Quinzel, Harleen, MD – Day 1**

"Just stand over there for your mugshot, please, Dr. Quinzel," said the Arkham Asylum guard, gesturing her over to where a backdrop and camera were set up.

"Sure thing, Steve," said Harley, smiling as she faced the camera.

"Uh…people don't usually smile for the mugshot," said Steve. "Except Joker, but he's crazy."

"Yeah, and so am I now, Steve," said Harley, beaming. "And whatever Mr. J does, I wanna do. Anyway, I don't think I could stop smiling even if I wanted to."

"O…K," said Steve slowly. "That's not what I would have expected from someone who's gone from being a successful doctor to an inmate here, but whatever makes you happy."

"Yep, I finally am happy now, Steve," sighed Harley. "And it's all thanks to Mr. J."

"You know we have explicit orders from Dr. Leland to keep you separated from him, right?" asked Steve, as he took the photo.

"Yeah, but I think we'll find a way around those somehow," replied Harley. "Mr. J's a smart guy, and love finds a way, after all."

"O…K," repeated Steve, standing up. "Well, let's get you to your cell. We're giving you the one next to Ivy."

"What happened to the patient who used to be in there?" asked Harley, puzzled. "It used to be occupied, as far as I know, though I can't remember who by."

"Yeah…she and Ivy got into a disagreement and one day she just…wasn't there anymore," said Steve. "Ivy assures us it has nothing to do with the baby Venus flytrap she's keeping in her cell, which mysteriously grew five feet overnight."

"Wow. Don't wanna get into a fight with her then, do I?" laughed Harley. They had arrived at the cell, and Harley waved cheerfully at Poison Ivy, who just glared back at her.

"Hi, I'm Harley," she said, turning to Ivy as the cell door clanged shut on her. "Pleased to finally meetcha – can I call you Ivy? Or do you prefer Poison? It is Poison Ivy, right, not Poison Oak? Do you prefer Oak? Or Oaky?"

"Didn't you used to be a doctor here?" asked Ivy, ignoring her question. "I'm sure I've seen you around before."

"Yeah, I think I saw you briefly on my orientation day," said Harley, nodding. "I _was_ a doctor here up until a few weeks ago, when I broke Mr. J out. They think that makes me crazy, for some reason."

"Who's Mr. J?" asked Ivy.

"Oh, sorry, that's my pet name for my puddin'," said Harley. "The Joker."

Ivy stared at her. "You have a pet name for the Joker?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, we're kinda sorta…together," giggled Harley. "As a couple, y'know. That's another reason why they won't let me be a doctor here anymore – Mr. J was my patient and…we were doing some things a doctor's not supposed to do with patients, if you know what I mean."

Ivy continued to stare at her. "You…did the Joker?" she asked, horrified.

"Oh yeah, a lotta times," giggled Harley. "That is a man with stamina, let me tell you…"

"Oh my God, that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!" exclaimed Ivy, shutting her eyes tightly. "I need to block out that image now! Oh my God, oh my God…I think I'm gonna be sick!"

"Sorry, I thought this was just girl talk," said Harley, as Ivy rushed over to her toilet. "You know, the way friends do."

"We're not friends! I just met you, for one thing, and for another, I don't make friends with meatsacks!" snapped Ivy.

Harley shrugged, looking around her cell. "Your loss. Anyway, this ain't a bad setup. At least the temperature control is ok in this wing – you get over to Freeze's cell and that whole block is messed up."

"Yes, it's the best of all possible places where you're locked up behind bars in a tiny room and have your entire life laid out for you by others with no freedom whatsoever," sighed Ivy.

"Aw, you just gotta look on the bright side, is all," said Harley. "I couldn't be happier to be locked up in here with the guy I love, and all these nice new friends like you. What more could anyone want?"

"I repeat, I don't make friends with meatsacks," retorted Ivy. "Especially meatsacks who think the Joker is attractive."

"He is though – he's super hot," said Harley.

"Are you blind _and_ crazy?" demanded Ivy.

"No, it's objectively true," retorted Harley. But then she smiled again. "But hey, different strokes for different folks, as Mr. J says. He's not your cup of tea, and I get it, although I think you're probably blind and crazy too. That's good, in a way – it means I won't be paranoid thinking you'll be trying to steal him away from me."

"That would be the most unfounded fear ever," retorted Ivy. "I hate his guts. He's an ugly, old, irredeemable monster."

"He is not old!" snapped Harley. "Or ugly! And he's not irredeemable! Sure, he may find the pain and suffering of others inherently amusing, but it's just a joke."

"What makes you think he won't find your pain and suffering amusing too?" demanded Ivy. "How can you be with a guy who's completely insincere about everything, and who thinks hurting people is funny? You're going to end up hurt by him eventually."

"Yeah, I guess," agreed Harley, shrugging again. "I'm not gonna lie – pain kinda turns me on though, so really it's probably a match made in heaven."

"Right, that's definitely it," said Ivy, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure you can really change him too."

"I don't wanna do that," said Harley. "I fell in love with him as he is – I don't ever want him to change."

"You can't actually be in love with the Joker though," retorted Ivy.

"Why not?" asked Harley, puzzled.

"Because he's the Joker!" exclaimed Ivy. "There's literally nothing lovable about him!"

"Aw, no, there's lots to love about him!" exclaimed Harley. "That little twinkle in his eye he gets when he's thinking about hurting people, especially Batman, the way his tongue sticks out when he's concentrating, that lock of hair that won't stay slicked back no matter what he tries, his passion and dedication to what he does, his jokes, his determination, his ability to make everyone laugh whether they want to or not, his smarts, his sense of humor, his chiseled good looks and well-defined cheekbones and slim but strong body, the way he makes a gal feel special, his unique way of looking at the world, the way he makes everything fun, his laugh, his smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, not to mention his fantastic ass and enormous…"

"Ok, do me a favor," interrupted Ivy. "We are temporarily forced to be in close contact, but I assure you that it _is_ temporary. I'll be busting out of here soon, and I hope never to see you again after that - Joker will probably dispose of you quickly enough. But while I do have to deal with you, please never, ever mention the Joker again in any way, shape, or form. Ok?"

"Ok," said Harley, nodding. She glanced over at Ivy's cell. "That's a nice plant you got there," she said, pointing at the Venus flytrap. "What's its name, Audrey II?"

"I don't name my plants," snapped Ivy. "You name pets in order to reinforce ownership over them. But you don't own plants – they're their own, magnificent, free selves that you should just support and encourage to grow."

"Well, that one looks like it might take your hand off," said Harley, indicating the sharp teeth.

"It won't hurt me," said Ivy.

"How do you know?" asked Harley.

"I trust it," she retorted. "It respects me."

"Might objectively be kinda a crazy thing to do," commented Harley. "Considering it looks so dangerous and all, and it's hurt others before, including whoever was last in this cell if the rumors are true."

"It only hurts people who don't understand it," retorted Ivy. "Or those who try to hurt it and deserve to be killed. If you love it, it loves you back."

"So what you're saying is you're keeping an extremely dangerous plant with you because you love it, and therefore trust and respect it, and it doesn't matter what anyone else says because it's your choice," said Harley, nodding. "It's special to you because you're the only one who can understand it, and it acts differently around you because, despite outward appearances, and however crazy it seems, it loves you. Gotcha."

Ivy glared at her. "Are you trying to make a point about you and that person I told you I didn't want you mentioning ever again?"

"Nope. Just commenting on your plant, is all," said Harley. "I'm a straightforward gal now – don't speak in metaphors or riddles or nothing. That's Nygma's game, I think, and nobody wants to be like him."

"Well, you got that right," agreed Ivy, heading over to pet her plant. "Maybe you're smarter than you look."

Harley beamed. "Aw, that's so nice to hear you say that! I think we just became best friends!" she said, embracing Ivy through the bars, much to her annoyance.

"All right, ladies, lunchtime – let's move it," said the guard, re-entering the cell block.

"Yay! I'm starved! What's on the menu today, Steve?" asked Harley, as he unlocked their cells.

"Uh…I think they're calling it meatloaf," said Steve.

"The usual crap then," muttered Ivy.

"Yeah, but at least it's free!" said Harley, cheerfully, as she skipped out of her cell and into the cafeteria. Most of the inmates were already there, including Joker, who was seated at a table by himself surrounded by armed guards. Harley skipped toward him, but a gun was immediately raised to her face.

"Go get in the lunch line, Dr. Quinzel," said the guard. "The patient's off-limits to you."

"Ok, Carl, no need to overreact," sniffed Harley, heading back toward the line. She caught Joker's eye, who winked at her, and then stuck his tongue out, licking it upwards at her.

"God yeah, you can see why you'd wanna be all over that," said Ivy sarcastically, as she lined up behind Harley, who was blowing kisses back to Joker.

"You don't know him," retorted Harley. "Anyway, I thought you didn't wanna talk about him anymore."

"I don't – not now or ever," said Ivy, taking a tray and leaning it against the counter as she glared at the man holding up the line.

This was Jervis Tetch, who was trying to decide between what was supposedly meatloaf, and supposedly stew, although they both looked remarkably similar in consistency.

"For God's sake, Jervis, just pick one!" snapped Jonathan Crane, who was standing behind him. "I'll get the other and we can swap if you don't like it, not that anyone could like either because it's the same disgusting slop we've had every day we've been in this dump!"

"Professor Crane, I thought that was you!" exclaimed Harley, who was standing behind him in line. Crane turned slowly, and his face flushed as he recognized her. "Boy, long time no see, huh?" she said, beaming at him and throwing herself into his arms for a hug. "How ya doing?"

"H…Harley," he stammered, embracing her awkwardly. "I'm…I'm fine…how are you doing? I thought you were working as a doctor here…"

"Yeah, well, I was, but the last time the Bat brought the Joker in beaten to a bloody pulp, something inside me snapped," said Harley. "I resolved not to just sit by being a doctor anymore – I resolved to bust him out and join him in his life of crime as his faithful companion and lover. Some people think that makes me crazy, so here I am!" she said, beaming.

"You're…the Joker's…lover?" stammered Crane, horrified.

"Disgusting thought, isn't it?" agreed Ivy.

"I'm sorry, Pamela, but I can't see any mutually loving relationship as something disgusting," said Tetch. "The disgusting ones are the unrequited ones – I know whereof I speak."

"I suspect it is unrequited, but don't tell her that," muttered Ivy under her breath.

"It's lovely to meet you, my dear," continued Tetch, smiling at Harley. "I'm Jervis Tetch, at your service."

"Yeah, I know…we've met before, Jervis, when I was a doctor," reminded Harley, as he kissed her hand.

"I have met Dr. Quinzel, but not you as you are now," replied Tetch. "It's no good going back to yesterday, as you were a different person then, and you are a new person now, to paraphrase Alice."

"Aw, that's a great way of looking at it," said Harley, beaming. "I'm certainly a lot happier of a person now. I remember the doctors would always sit in the depressing break room eating lunch in silence, but now I got all these great new friends to mingle with!" she said, hugging Tetch. "I used to be kinda shy and scared of meeting new people, but Mr. J has really opened up this whole other side of me! Plus I just feel like I belong here now. That's a great feeling, to have a real home surrounded by people who accept you and love you for who you are."

"Indeed it is," agreed Tetch, nodding. "I have also experienced something of the kind since coming here – a place where there are people who really value me…"

"Stop yammering nonsense or get out of line, nerd!" snapped Ivy, shoving him out of the way and taking his place.

"Hey, wait your turn, tramp!" snapped Two-Face, who she was now standing behind.

"Hey, watch your language around a lady," retorted Ivy.

"Oh, you're no lady, Pam," he snapped. "I think everyone in here knows that, but especially me."

"Really, must we have this every day?" sighed Tetch. "I know it's awkward for you two ex-lovers to see each other every day, but you simply must make the best of it."

"Aw, you two used to be together?" asked Harley, beaming at them. "That's sweet."

"Yes, she pretended to be romantically interested in me in order to try to kill me by kissing me with poisoned lipstick," retorted Two-Face.

"Oh. Well, forgive and forget, huh?" asked Harley. "It didn't work out, so move on – that's the mature response."

"Maturity and the inmates in here do not generally go hand-in-hand," commented Crane. "There are daily fights, physical more often than not, except since the Joker's under heavy guard perhaps we'll be spared that today."

"Not if Pammie keeps annoying me," muttered Two-Face. "I'm not the type to hit a lady, but like I said before, she's no lady."

"I'm sure you two just need to put aside your differences and talk things out, and you'll end up being the best of friends," said Harley. "Or maybe even rekindle that romance, huh?"

"Not if she was the last woman on earth," retorted Two-Face.

"Hey, ask your coin before you rule it out," retorted Ivy. "That's what you're wholly dependent on now, isn't it? Can't make any decisions for yourself, not like a real man. But I guess you're only half a man now, Harvey."

"Keep pushing, and coin or no coin, I'll take matters into my own hands," growled Two-Face.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," said Ivy, sarcastically. "You mean like when you took it into your own hands to murder my babies?"

"They're flowers, not babies!" snapped Two-Face.

"Look, if you guys want some couples counseling, that's not my specialty, but I'll be happy to give it a shot," said Harley.

"We're not a couple!" they both shouted at her.

"Ok, geez, calm down," said Harley. "You don't wanna ruin my first day with a buncha arguing, do you? Not after it's been going so great, reuniting with old friends and making new ones!" she said, hugging both Crane and Tetch again.

"Dr. Quinzel, Dr. Leland would like to see you after you're through with lunch," said Steve, coming over to her as she sat down.

"Aw, ain't that sweet of Joan?" asked Harley. "I bet she's wanting to see how I'm settling in."

"I think she's actually going to try to draw up a therapy schedule," said Steve. "You being a patient and all, that's mostly what you'll be doing in here."

"Oh yeah – you know, I almost forgot people think I'm crazy!" laughed Harley. "But then I guess I am kinda crazy in love," she sighed, gazing at Joker across the table of armed guards dreamily. He drew a heart in the air with his fingers, and pointed at her, and then began making gun shapes with his hands and pretending to shoot the guards, which made Harley giggle.

After she was finished eating, Steve escorted her to Dr. Leland's office. "Hi, Joan!" said Harley happily, taking a seat opposite her desk. "How's it hanging?"

Dr. Leland looked at her. "How's it hanging?" she repeated. "It's hanging fine – I've only had my hands full cleaning up the mess you made breaking the Joker out of here, not to mention the repeated interrogations from all and sundry about why I hired you if you were potentially mentally unstable, and reporters hounding me to and from work wanting an interview detailing how exactly the Joker broke the doctor's mind. Life has just been a bowl of cherries."

"Aw, well, I am sorry to cause you all that trouble," said Harley, sincerely. "But I don't regret anything I've done. I've never been happier than I am today. Well, except for the day Mr. J first kissed me, and the day we first had sex in my office…"

"I don't need to hear about that, thanks," interrupted Dr. Leland. "Although I do need to make a note to sterilize your office now," she muttered, writing something down on a piece of paper. She sighed, looking back up at Harley.

"I can't help but think this is somehow my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't let you analyze him…"

"Aw, c'mon, Joan, I never would have stopped pestering you until I got to," interrupted Harley. "I'm a determined kinda gal. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, and I wouldn't have wanted you to. I know you probably can't understand how anyone would want to go from being a successful doctor to a patient in here, but you have to believe me when I say I'm a lot happier now. I have love in my life…"

"You believe you have the love of someone who up until now has shown himself to be completely incapable of basic human emotions like empathy, let alone love," interrupted Dr. Leland. "Personally, I think he was looking for someone to help him escape from here, and pegged you as an easy target. He's an excellent liar, after all – I doubt he's ever told any doctor in here a true word about himself. What makes you think he's not lying to you?"

Harley shrugged. "Gotta have faith in the people you love, Joan," she said. "I was just saying to Poison Ivy…or Poison Oaky…she never did tell me which one she was. I might just call her Red since that's easy to remember, and saves confusion. Anyway, I was just saying to her that love is all about trust. Sure, maybe it's crazy to have blind trust in a man called the Joker, but I'm in here because I'm crazy. Frankly, I've been sane most of my life, and I can tell you, this is a lot better for me. Maybe Mr. J's right – maybe you gotta go crazy to be happy in this bleak, miserable world. But I promise you, I'm never going back."

"Harley, I don't want us to be enemies, but my job here is to cure you," said Dr. Leland. "And I'm not letting you near the Joker while you're in here. Maybe if you're away from his poisonous influence, you'll come to your senses."

"I already told you, Joan, I ain't doing that," said Harley, shaking her head. "And you can try to keep Mr. J away from me all you like, but you won't succeed. If we want something, we'll get it. And I want Mr. J."

"Harley, I'm trying to help you – it's for your own good," said Dr. Leland. "I don't want to see you hurt…"

"Well, that's pretty unavoidable in life, ain't it?" interrupted Harley. "I respect you, Joan, really I do. And I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations, but I've spent my whole life trying to meet other people's expectations without thinking of myself at all. Mr. J freed me from all that. I hope you'll consider me as incurable as he is, because I am now. I don't know if it was a choice for Mr. J to go crazy – I suspect it was because Batman knocked him into some crazy chemicals, and he just chose to make the best of a bad situation. But it_ is _a choice for me, and I choose the madness of my mad love. I choose to be committed for life."

Dr. Leland sighed heavily. "Then I think you probably will be, Harley," she said, managing a smile. "I know how stubborn you can be. Just like everyone in here, in fact," she sighed. "What with you losing your sanity, and all the patients we get sent who don't seem to make a lick of progress, I sometimes wonder if we're doing any good at all in here."

"You are, Joan," said Harley, sincerely. "You've given us a home, a place where we're safe and together. It's like one big, messed up family out there," she said, nodding toward the door. "Which I think is the best kinda family," she added, smiling.

Dr. Leland smiled back. "The Manson family could only dream of being that messed up. But thank you, Harley, that's some comfort. You should probably head back to your cell now – I'll have a therapy schedule ready for next week, for all the good it'll do."

"Great. See you then, Joan," said Harley, standing up. "And let me know if you need any help cleaning up after the breakout, or if you want me to give any interviews."

"Thank you, no," said Dr. Leland, hastily. "I think that would be the opposite of helpful."

"Suit yourself," said Harley, shrugging. "I woulda thought people would love to hear my side of the story. Knowing the media, the truth will be twisted all outta shape – they'll claim that I slept my way through medical school, or wanted to write some kinda gossip book about the inmates here, or something stupid like that. Anything but the simple, plain, and common truth – that I just fell madly in love with a guy. But then who can blame me?" she sighed, as she was returned to her cell and pulled out a picture of the Joker she kept hidden under her clothes. "Just look at that smile!"

"I hope you're not talking about that person we agreed you'd never talk about again," spoke up Ivy.

"No worries, Red," replied Harley. "But you are gonna be in for the surprise of your life when he sneaks in here tonight," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Ivy.

"Nothing," said Harley, hastily. "Nothing at all."


	3. Chapter 3

"And then I had to hear, not only _about_ him, but from him and both of them, in fact, when J snuck into her cell later that night and they had very loud sex," growled Ivy in the present day. "Which is something I've been having to put up with for far too long."

"We all have," agreed Two-Face, nodding.

"Hey, I had to see how my baby's first day on the other side of the bars was," said Joker, shrugging. "And I had to make it memorable for her."

"What happened to your guard?" asked Crane.

"Let's just say after what I did to them, Dr. Leland learned not to assign those to me anymore," said Joker. "And leave it at that."

"She learned not to stand in the way of true love," sighed Harley, cuddling Joker.

"If that's true love, I feel lucky I've never found it," retorted Ivy.

"I think love is an innate desire for us all," spoke up Tetch. "I know how central it is to my life – I wouldn't be in here if not for my love."

"You wouldn't be in here if not for your creepy fetish to dress up a woman as a Victorian child and control her mind like some kinda possessed doll," retorted Joker.

"No, it wasn't like that!" snapped Tetch. "I never wanted to control her mind at all – I wanted her to love me for me! When that…wasn't possible, I tried to protect her, for her own good…"

"Yeah, who hasn't thought at one time or another that people should be mind-controlled for their own good?" asked Joker. "I'm serious – I think it would be a laugh riot if I controlled Batman's mind, for instance, and it would do him some good to cheer up for once. Although you need to be careful, Hatty – you'll give the doctors in here ideas. Of course my mind could never be controlled – it's far too broken. It would be like trying to control a runaway train, or the healthcare system. That's a topical joke," he added, to no one in particular.

"It's sexist, is what it is," snapped Ivy. "You think women are too stupid to make good decisions for themselves, so you literally tried to control one so she would make the decision you want her to make."

"Oh, you think everything is sexist," retorted Joker. "You see the whole world through your bitter, twisted, discriminatory glasses. There's not a slight toward you that you're not happy to blame sexism for, and frankly, it's a little old. What if people just hate you because you're a terrible person, and not because you're a woman, did you ever think of that?"

"All I'm saying is you couldn't have respected her very much if you couldn't respect her decisions," continued Ivy, ignoring Joker. "Which is a very male thing to do."

"You're constantly questioning my decisions about Mr. J," pointed out Harley.

"That's different," retorted Ivy.

"No, it ain't," said Harley, shaking her head. "People in love ain't always rational, and don't always act in ways that you think they should. I've never known Jervis to disrespect anyone, even when they ask for it, like Batman. And I believe he acted as he did for unselfish reasons, because I've never known him to be selfish in his life."

"Well, perhaps I was a little selfish," admitted Tetch. "I do believe I was seized by a temporary madness, and just snapped, after a lifetime of rejection and abuse. That's why I remember my first day in here so clearly – I was expecting more of the same from my fellow inmates. You hear so many horrendous stories about the people in here that you fear the worst, but like most stories, they're mostly just exaggerations. And in my case, I never really fit in with normal people in places like school or work, and I honestly never expected to fit in here. But I suppose when you're insane, the sane seems like madness, and the madness seems like sanity. That's logic."

**Patient: Tetch, Jervis -Day 1**

Everything had seemed a blur since the trial. And even before then – actually, everything had seemed a blur after the rare adrenaline rush of the fight with Batman, which had ended with him pinned under a plastic Jabberwocky and watching his Alice embrace her fiancé through his tears. After that, nothing but blurriness until he heard the words of the judge pronounce, "I have no choice but to confine you indefinitely to Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

And the blur had returned after that. There was only the vague yet strong feeling of terror, a million fears and anxieties that clawed at his brain like caged animals, which he felt he was soon to become. An animal among other animals, and not pleasant animals like rabbits and mice and dodos that Alice had met.

But truly he felt like Alice as he fell that dark, rainy, dreary day down the rabbit hole of Arkham Asylum. As he entered the cold, stone walls, it felt like he had entered a kind of perverse Wonderland, full of murderous maniacs rather than charming creatures. He was overwhelmed, bewildered, and more than a little frightened about what could happen to him in a place like this.

"Oooh, new guy!" exclaimed the Joker, as Tetch was led down the hall, feeling all eyes watching him. "What are you in here for? Murder? Robbery? Mutilating people's minds and bodies until they've lost all sense of self and become mindless, sexless robots?"

"You're a sick freak to think of something like that, Joker," commented the guard who was escorting Tetch.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea – see Lazlo Valentin in solitary," retorted Joker. "Even I ain't as sick as that freak. I don't want my victims mindless – it's so much more fun to play games with people when they try and compete. After all, you can't laugh at a joke if you don't have a mind to find it funny. And I can't laugh at people's pain if they can't feel any, and that's how I get my kicks, so no, that ain't for me."

"Unlike most sick and wrong things then," retorted the guard, as he led Tetch to a cell two doors down from the Joker's. "But this freak's probably about as bad as you – he used mind control on a gal when she refused to love him."

"Ew, that is all kindsa wrong," said Joker, wrinkling up his nose. "That's cheating, first of all, and ruins the fun in the game of manipulating people. Nobody likes a cheater. And second of all, what kinda pleasure could you possibly get from that? You might as well sleep with one of Valentin's lobotomized monstrosities if you just want a sex doll."

"Joker, nobody's getting a sex doll!" snapped Dr. Leland, appearing from down the hall. "So get that idea out of your head right now!"

"Not for me – for the freak here," said Joker, nodding at Tetch, who had been too terrified to speak. "I told him I don't get pleasure from that kinda crap. It's all about the game for me, the chase, the dance, if you will. The back and forth repartee, and let's just say my needs are being met in that regard," he murmured, smiling as Dr. Harleen Quinzel appeared behind Dr. Leland, and smiled back at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but Jervis has done nothing as wrong as you believe," snapped Dr. Leland. "It was made clear at his trial by the victim herself that nothing inappropriate occurred, and she was actually reluctant to press charges against him. But his former employer, Bruce Wayne, insisted that he spend some time getting some psychological help. Just how much he needs remains to be determined, but I do thank Mr. Wayne for his faith in us. Mind you, I'm not sure throwing a relatively harmless yet incredibly intelligent man in here with a bunch of horribly violent criminals is the smartest decision, but then I'm just a doctor, not a billionaire with my name all over every building in this town," she sighed.

"Aw, c'mon, Doc, we'll make him feel welcome," said Joker, grinning at her.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she retorted. "Just stay away from him. We don't need your company being a gateway from a relatively eccentric obsession with hats and the works of Lewis Carroll to the kind of hardcore, violent psychopathy of your world."

"My world is bright and happy and funny," retorted Joker. "If some people see that as psychopathy, they're the psychopaths, not me."

"All I'm saying is, you're a long way from dressing people up in Wonderland costumes and mind controlling them to act like the characters," retorted Dr. Leland. "Which is the only crime Jervis has actually committed."

Joker stared at him. "I think I would have preferred the sex dolls, to be honest," he muttered. "I mean, it would be sick, but better sick than totally lame, in my view. But then I suppose life would be so boring if we were all the same. I think the sheer range and diversity of messed up folks we have in here is really our strength."

"Yes, it's a wonderful achievement," sighed Dr. Leland, unlocking his cell. "Now it's time for your therapy with Dr. Quinzel."

"Yes, come along, Mr. Joker," said Dr. Quinzel, smiling at him. "I'm very eager to have you on the couch again, to pump some more information out of you, and to further explore that disturbed mind of yours."

"And I am looking forward to sharing it with you, Doc," murmured Joker, smiling back. "I just hope you're prepared to receive it. It can be a hard nut to crack sometimes, but I have every confidence in you being able to take it all in once it does."

"I'll certainly do my best," replied Dr. Quinzel. "Though it might be a bit of a stretch for me to adapt to your way of thinking. But I suppose a doctor has to be flexible with her methods in order to satisfy her patient."

"Well, you certainly are flexible," he murmured, grinning. "And you've definitely satisfied your patient. Repeatedly," he added. "And yet I feel I have more needs which need to be met, and which I'm pretty sure only you can understand, Dr. Quinzel."

"Save it for therapy, Mr. Joker," said Dr. Quinzel, heading off down the hall with Joker following her, chuckling madly.

"Jervis, we'll have a little talk later – I'm late for meeting," said Dr. Leland, checking her watch. "But you get settled in here, and let the guards know if you need anything. That's what they're here for."

She headed to her office, and the moment she was out of earshot, the guard said, "It's not what I'm here for, freak – I'm here to make sure you stay locked up behind these bars where you and all your weird, disgusting, filthy friends belong."

"Oh my, that is rich, coming from you, isn't it, Reginald?" said a voice from the neighboring cell. "You who are constantly bragging to your fellow guards about your weekend exploits. Disgusting and filthy would be my optimal adjectives to describe the way you treat women."

"Worse than frightening them to death, freak?" demanded the guard. "It's certainly not worse than mind controlling 'em like this sicko."

"Yes, violence towards them is much more civilized," retorted the man in the neighboring cell, sarcastically. "Of course that's all your kind know, so it's less of a choice and more of an uncontrollable compulsion, often resorted to by those with low intellect. You're like an animal in that respect – lacking reason, and so relying solely on brute instincts to achieve your aims, which are often as brutish as your behaviors."

"Spare me the lecture, professor," retorted the guard. "You're locked up, and I'm not, so who's the real loser, huh?"

"You are unaware, I suppose, of the shifting nature of reality?" asked the man in the neighboring cell. "And how quickly those things we are so certain of can be taken away. The same is true for our respective situations, and your label of loser."

"You talk too much, freak," snapped the guard, slamming his stick between the bars. "You can drone on to your new neighbor if you want, but I'm taking my break."

"That's your tenth one today, isn't it?" asked Crane. "I understand – the intellectual pressures of a guard's life must be simply exhausting. You certainly deserve a respite. And perhaps you'll get a permanent one very soon," he murmured, as the guard sauntered off.

The man in the neighboring cell turned to face Tetch. "I feel like I should apologize for his behavior, though Lord knows I'm not responsible for it," he said, extending his hand between the bars. "I loathe bullies in all their forms, and I try to humiliate them whenever possible. Call it payback for an especially traumatic childhood. I'm Jonathan Crane, known professionally as the Scarecrow."

"I'm…Jervis Tetch," stammered Tetch, shaking his hand. "Known as the Mad Hatter. I also had a…particularly traumatic childhood."

"Not the best thing to have in common, but it does confirm Freud's theories that most problems in adulthood stem from childhood trauma," commented Crane. "Though by and large, his theories are highly suspect. That's a professional opinion from a former psychiatrist."

"Really? That must be very difficult for you to be analyzed by people who claim to be more specialist in an area you specialize in," said Tetch. "I know if someone claiming to be a Carroll scholar contradicted my beliefs, I would resent them."

"Oh, I've had to deal with people who think they're better than me my whole life," said Crane, shrugging. "It would be futile to become upset about it now. Mostly it's just a low, simmering rage that comes to the forefront during my fear gas attacks. It's a sort of revenge upon the world which has inflicted a lifetime of suffering upon me. I'm sure you understand the need for vengeance."

"Yes, but…I can't say I condone it," murmured Tetch. "I feel absolutely awful about what I did…no matter how bad I felt, I should never have tried to impose my will upon a living angel like that. I cannot claim to love her, after all, if I put my needs before hers. It was a cowardly and shameful thing to do, and I have been deservedly punished by being sent to this place to live out the remainder of my miserable life, however brief it may be."

"Now you mustn't be melodramatic," retorted Crane. "Your life is far from over in here. I mean, it's not ideal, but you live as comfortably as anyone can being deprived of their liberty."

"But there are so many terrifying, murderous people in here, like the Joker…" began Tetch.

"Joker won't kill you," interrupted Crane. "His game is far crueler than that – mostly he enjoys playing with people, annoying them incessantly, and if he kills you, his fun in tormenting you is over, so he usually won't, unless you've become boring to him. That's not to say you shouldn't be afraid of him, or that he's a nice man – there are fates worse than death, after all, and Joker knows all of them. But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him think I'm afraid of him, and neither should you. It only feeds his insatiable ego, and that's being fed enough, what with Harley's apparently obsessive interest in his case."

"Harley?" repeated Tetch, confused.

"Sorry, Dr. Quinzel," he corrected. "I knew her as Harley before she was a doctor here. I just don't understand what attracts her to the Joker, of all people."

"I did think they were speaking in some sort of code," agreed Tetch. "I'm glad I'm not crazy about that at least."

"Code?" repeated Crane. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh. I thought by attracted, you meant…they're not romantically involved?" asked Tetch, slowly.

"How dare you?" demanded Crane, eyes blazing. "How dare you impugn the honor of that most sacred and virtuous of all women by even suggesting such a thing! She can do so much better, and she will someday, mark my words!"

"I'm terribly sorry," said Tetch, hastily. "I didn't mean to offend you…"

"Well, you have, a little," snapped Crane. "Even suggesting such a thing about Dr. Quinzel is beyond offensive. She is an angel on earth, and she would never stoop so low as to become romantically involved with that devil. The very idea!"

"I'm truly very sorry – I always do and say the wrong thing," said Tetch. "Which is why I've ended up in here. I've always had a difficult time connecting with other people…perhaps I really do deserve to be in here. Maybe it will help me work through some of my issues, if the doctors are all as good as Dr. Quinzel obviously is."

"Well, Dr. Leland is," said Crane. "I can't say much for the rest of them. But then like all people in all places, most will be awful, but there will be an occasional glimmer of light and hope and decency."

"Yes," agreed Tetch. "Thank you…for being mine."

Crane snorted. "I'm not sure anyone would call me decent," he said.

"I think anyone who stands up to bullies is decent," said Tetch.

"Well, when one spends one's life surrounded by bullies, there's really no other choice," said Crane. "And most of the guards in here are that. And some of the doctors, and the Joker, of course, and some of the other inmates sometimes. But you learn to stand up for yourself when you realize nobody else will."

"Recreation time, freaks," said the guard, re-entering the cell block. "Let's get you out there."

"Oh Lord, please tell me he's not talking about physical recreation," said Tetch, horrified. "Mandatory exercise is a horrific thought."

"No, he means the Rec Room," said Crane, as Tetch followed him down the hall. "There is a gym available, but I certainly never use it. I think Harvey does on occasion, but he's usually the only one."

"Harvey Dent?" asked Tetch. "I heard that he was in here."

"He refers to himself as Two-Face now," said Crane. "For obvious reasons, but he's a nice enough man. A little indecisive, of course, but that's understandable considering his circumstances."

They entered the Rec Room, and Tetch felt relief wash over him as he noticed a shelf full of books. He headed over to this, and his heart leapt as he spotted a copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ on the shelf.

"Thank goodness," he murmured, clutching it to his chest. "I have another friend in here," he explained to Crane. "Not that I don't know the entire text by heart, but a familiar book is like an old friend. At least, I imagine it would be if I ever had any friends before which weren't books."

"Believe me, I understand," said Crane. "My literary taste is probably darker than yours – classic Gothic and that kind of thing. But I think we can both agree that no matter what the genre, books are the ideal companions."

Two-Face entered the room at that moment and headed over to the TV without acknowledging anyone. "Harvey, this is our new fellow inmate, Jervis Tetch," said Crane.

"Yeah, nice to meet you," said Two-Face, not even turning around as he seized the remote and claimed his seat on the sofa. "Sorry if I seem distracted – I'm trying to beat Pammie to the TV."

Poison Ivy entered a moment later and sat down on the sofa next to him, glaring at him. "Harvey, my gardening show is on," she said, pointedly.

"Too bad," retorted Two-Face. "I was here first, and I'm watching Judge Judy."

"I don't know how you can watch that trash," commented Ivy. "The lowest of humanity making fools of themselves on public television – you might as well watch Jerry Springer."

"Nah, I can't watch that anymore after that one episode with Baby Doll and Killer Croc talking about their relationship," said Two-Face. "It just kinda traumatized me for life."

"Can't be any worse than ours," retorted Ivy.

"Oh, trust me, it can," said Two-Face. "At least we're anatomically roughly the same size, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my God, I didn't want to think about that," muttered Ivy, shutting her eyes. "That's worse than when Joker mentioned he was, and I quote, 'cranking up the jack-in-the box until it pops the weasel' thinking about one of the doctors."

"Was that Dr. Quinzel?" asked Two-Face. "Because I don't blame him if it was. She is a looker, and even a crazy guy can see that."

"I don't remember her name – some blonde woman," said Ivy, shrugging. "I just don't understand why men turn into panting idiots at the sight of blonde hair."

"Not all men, Pamela," spoke up Crane. "We all have different tastes. Although Dr. Quinzel is an incredibly attractive woman."

"Well, so am I," retorted Ivy. "And no man can resist me."

"You've certainly got a high opinion of yourself, Pam," growled Two-Face.

"I wouldn't claim it if it wasn't true," retorted Ivy, shrugging.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks the new guy can resist you," retorted Two-Face, turning to Tetch. "What do you think, buddy? Wanna win me twenty bucks?"

"Erm…not…really," stammered Tetch, feeling himself flushing. "If you don't mind, that is…I'd feel uncomfortable even thinking about another woman when…my heart is pledged to another. That's why I'm in here, you see. She didn't…return my feelings, and I...behaved rather badly."

"She's not required to return your feelings, is she?" sniffed Ivy. "Only an entitled man would think that."

"No, I just thought…that she might," stammered Tetch. "The fault was mine entirely, but…I just wanted to help her. The man she loves is completely unsuitable for her…"

"That's not your decision, is it?" interrupted Ivy. "God, I would never be so ridiculously self-righteous as to tell another person who they can or can't love. It must be a male thing, trying to patronize women, as usual."

"Oh, for God's sake, Pammie, let it go," said Two-Face.

"None of you have any idea how difficult it is to be a woman in a man's world," retorted Ivy.

"No, for some of us, it's hard enough being a man in a man's world," retorted Crane.

"Yeah, come back to me when half your face is burned off by a guy, and then tell me how easy it is being a man," retorted Two-Face.

"Just answer me one question – this woman you're pining for, what color is her hair?" asked Ivy.

"Blonde," replied Tetch, and Ivy sighed heavily. "Like Alice's," he continued. "That's her name, in fact, Alice, like Alice in Wonderland. Which explains my attraction, since I adore the works of Lewis Carroll, and have based my entire persona off the Mad Hatter from those stories."

"Uh huh. So you're in love with this girl because she resembles a kid from a Victorian children's book, huh?" asked Ivy.

"It's a little more complex than that," said Tetch. "She was kind to me, which very few people, let alone women, have been in my life. I thought…her feelings were of a similar nature to mine, but then when she showed me a picture of her fiance…these things all got out of control. I think I was seized by a temporary madness, which is why I hope I can improve myself while I'm in here."

"Well, there's probably some chance of that, since you admit you were temporarily crazy," said Two-Face, nodding. "It's more than most of us do – mostly we just figure this is who we are, so there's really no cure for us. I guess not all of us have the humility to admit that we were wrong, or that we wronged others."

"For God's sake, Harvey, I did not wrong you!" snapped Ivy. "You had it coming for killing my babies!"

"You…did what?" stammered Tetch.

"I bulldozed over some flowers to build a new prison complex when I was DA," explained Two-Face. "Pam thinks flowers are her babies, so she tried to murder me as revenge. She's clearly a stable individual who needs no help from this place. Frankly, I like your attitude, and she should emulate it – an apology certainly wouldn't go amiss."

"I am not apologizing for trying to avenge my children!" snapped Ivy. "The ends justified the means!"

"You know, whatever you have to tell yourself in order to live with yourself, you heartless tramp!" snapped Two-Face. "Now shut up – I'm watching Judy."

Ivy glared murderously at him, and then suddenly leapt at him, slamming his face onto the arm of the sofa and trying to seize the remote, which Two-Face kept a death grip on.

"You should get used to the fights – they happen fairly regularly around here," commented Crane, taking a book from the shelf and calmly heading over to a chair to read.

"Break it up, freaks, break it up!" shouted the guard from before, rushing in and struggling to pull Ivy away. She elbowed him in the face, renewing her attempt to get her hands on the remote control by trying to body-slam Two-Face. This succeeded in removing the remote from his hand…and sending it flying into the fire alarm, shattering the glass and setting it off.

"Great, now look what you've done!" shouted the guard. "On your feet, everyone – we gotta get you freaks outta here, though honestly, if it was a real fire, I'd leave you all to burn!"

The inmates all reluctantly filed out of the Rec Room onto the lawn, standing in the pouring rain and glaring at each other. "Who did it?" demanded Dr. Leland, striding across the grounds toward them.

"Technically it was Harvey…" began Ivy.

"She made me!" snapped Two-Face.

Dr. Leland sighed. "To be honest, I don't really care as long as it doesn't happen again," she muttered. "And as long as we all got out before the fire marshals arrive – the last thing I need is people telling me our drill procedures are sub par."

She looked around at the assembled inmates and staff, and frowned. "Where's Dr. Quinzel?" she asked. "And the Joker?"

"Probably still in therapy," retorted Crane, who was still reading his book. "She's smart enough to know this is just a drill."

"But that would mean she's been left alone in there with the Joker," said Dr. Leland.

Crane looked up from his book at this. "Good God – someone must go back for her and protect her from that scum…" he began, striding forward.

"And there's no excuse for ignoring a drill anyway," said Dr. Leland, putting a hand out to stop him. "Go fetch her, please, Reggie."

The guard headed back into the asylum, muttering to himself, as Dr. Leland sighed. She gave Tetch a small smile. "Memorable first day for you, huh?"

"Yes," agreed Tetch. "Although…much less horrible than what I was expecting."

"Well, that's some good news at least," said Dr. Leland. "Ideally, this place should be a haven for the mentally disturbed, not a prison. Although some of our inmates make the extra security a necessity," she sighed. "Of course those same inmates are determined to break out whether we have extra high security or none at all, so I do sometimes wonder if it's not a waste of money that could be better spent elsewhere. Like employing more doctors – a lot of the good ones keep quitting, Dr. Quinzel excepted, of course."

There was the sudden sound of a high-pitched scream over the fire alarm. "Good Lord, what is that?" demanded Crane. "I swear if Dr. Quinzel's in trouble, I'm going back in there to get her myself!"

"That didn't sound like Dr. Quinzel," said Dr. Leland, frowning. "It didn't sound like a woman at all to me."

A few moments later, Dr. Quinzel emerged from the asylum, pulling the Joker in handcuffs behind her. "Where's Reggie?" asked Dr. Leland.

"I killed him," said Joker, holding up his handcuffs. "The old twist and snap neck game."

"Actually, he beat him to death, and that's why he's in handcuffs now," snapped Dr. Quinzel. "I was looking for those when the fire alarm went off, so he wouldn't escape out here, and while I was looking Reggie came in, so Joker grabs my nameplate from my desk and bashes his head in with it. I mean, you gotta give him credit for quick thinking, but...anyway, that's why Reggie screamed, and not because he saw anything...disturbing."

"Why wasn't Joker restrained in the session?" asked Dr. Leland, puzzled.

Joker and Dr. Quinzel shared a look. "Y'know, he was, but…" began Dr. Quinzel.

"But I picked the lock while Dr. Quinzel was taking some notes," finished Joker. "And then she had to try and secure the handcuffs again when the fire alarm went off, which is why it took us so long to get out here. And while she was securing them, Reggie came in and…y'know," he said, holding up his bloodied hands.

"He got blood all over me too," muttered Dr. Quinzel. "And I don't know where this blood has been, unlike…my own," she finished. "And I was struggling to restrain Joker, so that's why my hair and clothes are all messed up."

"And I was struggling to be restrained, and that's why mine are," agreed Joker. "See, there's no reason to be suspicious because it all makes perfect sense."

"Great, this is all I need today," sighed Dr. Leland. "Once the fire department turns off the alarm, we'll get the cops in here to investigate the death of another guard. I'm afraid your first impressions have suddenly become less pleasant, Jervis," she said, turning to Tetch.

"Oh, not really," said Tetch, shrugging. "The man seemed like a frightful bully to me – I'm just glad he received some punishment. That's rarely been my experience of bullies in the world outside. And this is a lovely garden, if I may say so," he commented, distracted by the flowers, although he was more sure than ever that the Joker and Dr. Quinzel were romantically involved, even though nobody else could see it. "It would be just the place for some croquet."

"We tend not to give the Joker anything involving heavy mallets," sighed Dr. Leland. "Or anything that can be used as a weapon. For reasons you've just heard."

"Some lovely white roses over there, although they should of course be painted red…" continued Tetch.

"Try it, pal," snapped Ivy. "I'll have 'em suffocate you before you can suffocate them."

"Yes, of course, flowers which can move and communicate," said Tetch, nodding. "And you have the Joker, who is a playing card, after all, over there covered in red paint after attempting to paint the roses red. It is very like Wonderland after all. Except it's ruled by someone far more wise and benevolent than the Queen of Hearts," he said, bowing to Dr. Leland. "But I daresay the Mad Hatter shall fit right in and find his place here at last, among the mad. I am very happy to join such distinguished company. And just look at the time," he said, glancing at the clock in the belltower. "Who's for tea?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Yeah, a freak would feel at home with other freaks," agreed Joker, nodding. "And I guess you found love with your boyfriend in here, so that's a happy ending to the story after all."

"I did find love of a kind," agreed Tetch, as Crane began to object loudly. "And the love of a deep and abiding friendship is certainly a blessing to be thankful for. Wouldn't you agree, Joker? I daresay that's how you feel about Batman."

"Yeah, he's a real pal," agreed Joker. "Always there for me through thick and thin."

"And your life would be very empty without him in it, wouldn't it?" asked Tetch.

"Very empty," agreed Joker. "I'd just have the cops and Harley to kick around, and God knows that's so easy, it's stopped being fun. I enjoy a challenge, and trying to make Batsy smile is the biggest challenge in the world."

"Some would say it's an impossible challenge," retorted Crane.

"And that's the most challenging challenge of all, isn't it?" retorted Joker.

"And now everyone is talking nonsense again, and making me feel especially at home in Arkhamland," said Tetch, smiling. "If only the real world could be more like here, I should not fear to go out among it again."

"The real world is crap," muttered Two-Face. "Things are much better in here. Out there, you fight for principles, and you lose half your face."

"And in here, you just have that woman who tried to poison you," said Joker, nodding. "So that's better. And as I recall, you didn't have the warmest of welcomes here – I know one guy out there mutilated your face, but I think pretty much everyone in here was looking to mutilate the rest of you."

"Ironically, not you," retorted Two-Face. "But others in here, yes. Others who have mysteriously disappeared over the years…"

"Yeah, well, the popularity of certain characters gradually declines," said Joker, nodding. "So the writers don't acknowledge them and eventually they just cease to exist. Personally, I hope that's what's gonna happen to Nygma in the not too distant future. Just stop mentioning him and he'll gradually disappear. Though I realize just by mentioning him now, I've bought him another few decades, dammit."

"Uh…huh," said Two-Face, sharing a bewildered look with Ivy. "Anyway, my first day here was also pretty damn memorable – I still remember how it felt to be admitted to Arkham, the place I had sent so many people back when I was DA. I guess there was some sort of cosmic justice in that – destiny, if you will. I kinda wish I had been able to just lay it all at fate's door back then. I still felt like a monumental failure after a life of privilege and promise."

"And now you've just embraced the fact that you _are_ a failure," said Joker, beaming at him.

"No, I've embraced the fact that there are some things people can't control, such as the whims of fate," retorted Two-Face. "And that it's pointless to fight against those things in pursuit of so-called justice. Sometimes we just have to accept our lot in life."

"Now Harvey, if I'd have accepted my lot in life, I would still be a doctor and not Mr. J's loyal and loving henchwench," spoke up Harley. "So your theory falls flat right there."

"Yeah…sure," said Two-Face, slowly. He withdrew his coin. "We can fight against it all we like. When we come to a crossroads, we can choose our own path. But in the end, fate has all the power," he said, flipping his coin into the air. "We can choose whatever we want, but that coin's gonna come down either good side or bad side, and nothing we can choose or hope will make any difference to the ultimate decision of fate. That's what I never understood before. There are millions of choices people make on a daily basis that lead them to the paths they're on now, but the path they're on is inevitable. You can't fix that. And you can't eradicate crime when fate ultimately decides who lives and who dies. To fight against it is utterly futile. I understand that now…but I didn't then, not entirely. I had already been Two-Face for a little while, but I had some hope of being saved after Batman stopped me from killing Rupert Thorne. I felt confused and conflicted about my purpose, and my friend, and my fiancée, and the doctors recommended some time in Arkham to help me see things clearly. And it worked."

**Patient: Dent, Harvey - Day 1**

"I don't want you to see this as a defeat, Harvey," said Bruce Wayne, gently. "This is only a temporary arrangement, and you'll get through this and get out of here in no time."

"And we'll be waiting for you when you do," said Grace Lamont, Dent's fiancée, smiling sweetly at him. "And we'll be here as much as we can throughout the process. This is the first big step toward you getting better, sweetie."

"I don't want to delude you both about this – it _is _a big step, but it's still a long road ahead," said Dr. Leland, as she sat opposite them at the desk in her office. "The kind of therapy Mr. Dent needs could take years of commitment, and it won't all be smooth sailing. It'll come with a lot of failures and setbacks."

"If you think failures and setbacks can deter Harvey Dent, then you don't know him very well," replied Grace, smiling at her. "Isn't that right, Harvey?" she asked, taking his hand. "This is the man who wouldn't stop until he took down Rupert Thorne's entire criminal network, and that was after he took down the Falcone and Maroni families."

"That was Batman," muttered Two-Face. "The only thing I did was agree to work with Batman rather than arrest him. A decision I constantly question to this day," he said, reaching for his coin.

"It halved crime in Gotham, so it was objectively a good decision," said Bruce.

"And what about the other half?" asked Dent. "And the half that rose to fill the void left by Batman wiping out that half? The universe will always realign itself – fate sees to that. Fighting to reduce evil is as futile as fighting to reduce good, and just as undesirable. It all balances out anyway in the law of averages."

"That doesn't mean we just sit back and let bad things happen without trying to stop them," said Bruce. "Surely you can see how defeatist that sounds, Harvey?"

"They happen anyway, whether we try to stop them or not," retorted Two-Face. "Look at my face."

"So because you look like a monster, you're going to resign yourself to being a monster?" asked Bruce.

"I told you, it's not a choice," retorted Two-Face. "Just the law of averages. The great equalizer. Whether we're good or bad, whether we're born or not, and whether we die or not, it's all just chance. Ask your parents."

"My parents died because of crime in this city, crime that you promised me we'd wipe out together," said Bruce. "And now you're just giving up to join the criminals?"

"I tried fighting them," murmured Two-Face. "They did this to me. They re-balanced the universe, by turning a crusader for justice into a criminal. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. And at least I did something, Bruce, instead of just throwing money at the problem."

"Harvey, stop," said Grace. "Bruce does what he can, as we all do. As you used to do. You have to take responsibility for your life again."

"That's hard enough for sane people to do sometimes," said Dr. Leland, gently. "And I've told you, you can't expect overnight results. Please just give him some time here – I promise you that we'll do the best we can for him."

"I hate to leave him here like this," murmured Grace, stroking his hair back.

"He'll be well looked after," said Dr. Leland. "You have my word."

"I'll see you soon, Grace," murmured Two-Face. "Bruce," he said, nodding at his friend. "Please take care of her."

"I always do," said Bruce, nodding.

"Bye, Harvey," murmured Grace, kissing him. "Come back to me in one piece."

"I'll try – can't promise one face though," he murmured, smiling at her. His smile dropped as she and Bruce left the room. "So you're gonna have a bodyguard with me constantly or what?" he asked, turning to Dr. Leland. "You know everyone in here will be baying for my blood."

"Not everyone," replied Dr. Leland. "I'm not sure how most of the inmates will react to you, but none of them have any weapons on them. This isn't like a prison – there's no one waiting to shank you in the showers or anything."

"And the witness on the stand didn't have any acid stashed on his person," retorted Two-Face. "I'm not exactly trusting about these things, especially when these people are known for being able to make a weapon out of pretty much anything."

"Not everyone in here is the Joker," retorted Dr. Leland. "Although it is amazing what he can use as a weapon – even if we kept him in a straight-jacket 24/7, he'd probably figure out a way to strangle somebody with that. Anyway, we have guards in here for a reason – they'll keep an eye on you and the other inmates equally to make sure nobody is causing trouble. This is a hospital, and all I want you to worry about is getting better, ok?"

Two-Face shrugged. "Ok," he muttered. "On your head be it."

"The guard will show you to your cell," said Dr. Leland, pressing the buzzer on her desk. "If there are any problems, let him know, and he'll let me know. I think you have every reason to be optimistic about recovering from this, Harvey – you have a wonderful support network, and that's a hugely important thing."

"Yeah, I'm a lucky guy," muttered Two-Face, as the guard came to collect him. Two-Face flipped his coin, and it landed good side up, and he resolved, with a sigh, to be positive. "I mean, I guess I am," he said to himself, as he followed the guard down the hall. "It could be worse – I coulda been sent to Blackgate. That would have been the ultimate irony, seeing as I built it and all. And there are probably a lot more people in there who hate me a lot more than people in here, and who have the means to do something about it. One person in particular…"

He trailed off as they passed a cell, where he saw the one person in particular he had been thinking of - an attractive red-headed woman was watering what looked like a baby Venus flytrap. "Pammie?" he stammered.

Poison Ivy looked up at him and smiled. "Harvey. So the rumors are true – you've finally got a face to match the personality."

"I…I thought you were in Blackgate," he stammered. "That's where they sent you after the trial for my…attempted murder…"

"First of all, it wasn't attempted murder – it was justice for you murdering my babies," retorted Ivy. "And they did put me in Blackgate for about a week, until my baby and I broke out via the root system underneath the prison belonging to an ancient tree that you were content to bulldoze over. When Batman caught me again, the courts decided I belonged in here, where there are fewer giant tree roots to help me escape. Plus, y'know, they figured I was crazy and all," she said, shrugging as she continued to water the plant. "Stupid, small-minded humans and their ridiculous definitions of crazy."

"Yeah, like dating a guy and trying to kill him because he cut down some flowers in order to build a prison to make his city safer!" snapped Two-Face.

"How did that work out for you, in the end?" asked Ivy, lightly. "I'm guessing not too well. But don't worry, Harvey – it was always a pipe dream. This town is doomed, and nothing you or anyone else can do can save it. Anyway, you should thank me for trying to kill you. Death would have been better than ending up with a face like that, but I take comfort in the fact that you received some punishment from the universe for what you did. Call it karma, because it's well deserved."

"You selfish little bitch!" roared Two-Face, lunging toward her, but he was intercepted by the guard.

"Just calm down, Mr. Dent – I'd hate to have to taser you," he muttered.

"Hey, if anyone's gonna get tasered, it's gonna be me," snapped a voice, and Dent turned to see the Joker standing in the opposite cell. "Also, if anyone's gonna be insulting Pammie, it's gonna be me," he continued.

"She used to date me, so that's much worse than anything she could ever have done to you," growled Two-Face.

"Oooh, you're right!" agreed Joker, beaming. "So this is kinda a happy reunion of sorts, huh?"

"Hardly – sadly I didn't succeed in killing him, which was the one reason I was dating him," retorted Ivy. "But if Batman hadn't stopped me from bumping him off, we'd all be a lot happier."

"Yes, it's hard not to recognize true love when you hear it," sighed Joker. "Well, this is a very merry occasion! A new inmate, and a lovers' reunion!"

"I knew you had a sick sense of humor," growled Two-Face. "It wouldn't be so funny if you were stuck in here with your ex."

"Not gonna happen," said Joker, shaking his head. "I avoid romantic entanglements for many reasons – mostly because they all end in tears, and I'm a happy kinda guy."

"And also because no woman in her right mind would ever date you," retorted Ivy.

"You're right, and there ain't ever gonna be a crazy enough gal for me," agreed Joker, nodding. "I just don't see that as a genuine possibility. Shame, really, but it is what it is."

"Your cell's right here, Mr. Dent," said the guard, unlocking the door to a cell opposite Ivy's.

"No, you go get Dr. Leland right now and tell her that I need a different cell far away from her!" snapped Two-Face, throwing a finger at Ivy.

"No can do," retorted the guard. "Dr. Leland's interviewing a new doctor at the moment, and said that she shouldn't be disturbed."

"Oooh, fresh meat!" said Joker, beaming. "I always enjoy meeting a new doctor, albeit for the incredibly brief time he'll survive in here."

"Dr. Quinzel's a woman," retorted the guard. "And quite a good-looking woman too. I hope she gets the job – it'd be nice to have a little eye candy at work."

"Ok, first of all, that's sexist," snapped Ivy. "Women do not exist in order for you to objectify them. And second of all, if you are going to objectify women, you already have an incredibly good-looking one right here!"

"Yeah, a freak with green skin," retorted the guard. "No, thank you. At least Dr. Quinzel looks normal, and isn't nuts."

"And probably doesn't use men in order to further her own selfish ends, and then stab them in the back," muttered Two-Face.

"Wow, _you're _calling _me _selfish?" demanded Ivy. "That's rich, Mr. former DA! Why don't you murder some more flowers in order to save the lives of a few more worthless humans?"

"If you're so keen on saving the planet, Pammie, why don't you rid it of one more useless human life, like your own?" demanded Two-Face.

"I am not human, you ugly freak!" shouted Ivy, shooting her hand through the bars. The roots of the Venus fly trap shot out, reaching for Two-Face's throat like tentacles, as the guard tried to taser them away.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun!" chuckled Joker over the chaos. "Battle of the Exes, every day! I'm looking forward to that!"

"What on earth is going on out here?" demanded Dr. Leland, storming down the hall as the roots retreated back into Ivy's cell. "I can't hear Dr. Quinzel's answers to the interview questions over this racket!"

"Dr. Leland, I need a different cell," said Two-Face. "This woman tried to murder me a few years back, and just now, and I don't want to spend another second in her company!"

"Well, we don't have another cell available right now," retorted Dr. Leland. "I can ask someone if they want to switch after the interview, but for the next hour or so, I need you both to just try to act like adults and get along. Just ignore each other or something, but I don't need you to scare off this really good job candidate! I'm sorry for the interruption, Dr. Quinzel – it's not usually such a madhouse in here, as it were…" she continued, heading back to her office and shutting the door.

"Wow, normally it's the interviewee who lies in the job interview, not the interviewer," commented Joker.

"I'll swap with him, at least temporarily," said a voice from down the hall. "Anything to restore a little peace and quiet around here – I can't concentrate on my book with all this shouting."

"All right, switch with the professor," said the guard, heading over to unlock Jonathan Crane's cell.

"Help yourself to the books, but do not look under the bed," said Crane, as he was removed from the cell Two-Face entered. "I'm conducting a little experiment there, so don't touch it if you don't want to be fear gassed."

"Oh yeah, clearly the only thing I have to worry about in here is getting better," muttered Two-Face to himself, sarcastically. "Not the crazy people around me who have already made an attempt on my life. This is just great. I'll clearly be cured in no time," he sighed, lying down on the bed but taking care not to look under it.

Several hours passed, and Two-Face managed to drift off into a restless slumber. Which he was rudely awoken from when a pillowcase was stuffed over his head, and his arms and legs were secured. "Let's go, Mr. District Attorney," growled a voice in his ear, as he felt himself dragged off the bed and out of the cell. He struggled and shouted, but he was held firmly, and his voice was muffled by the pillowcase.

The pillowcase was removed at last, and Two-Face's eyes focused through the darkness on the men opposite him, men who seemed vaguely familiar, but he would struggle to name any one of them.

"Remember me, Mr. District Attorney?" growled one of them.

"No," replied Two-Face, honestly. "Who the hell are you?"

"You sent me and my gang to this hellhole six years ago because you thought we needed help with some anger issues," growled the man.

"I kinda think you still do," retorted Two-Face. "Or at least help with moving on from something that happened six years ago. That's a long time to have made zero progress with the issues that got you sent here."

"You don't make progress in here," retorted the man. "You just sit chained up in your cell, surrounded by freaks, and rot. I would say there's some justice in letting that happen to you, Mr. District Attorney, and in what happened to your face. But I don't want justice having all the fun of mutilating you, when I've been waiting six years to do it myself," he muttered, flicking out a knife.

"Well, there's just one problem with that, pal," retorted Two-Face. "Harvey Dent is dead. He died the day his face split in half, and he ain't never coming back. You can't take revenge on a dead man, but if you piss me off, I promise you, Two-Face will make you pay with double the pain you give me."

"Well, I'd better make sure Two-Face is dead too," growled the man. "But first, I'm gonna take my time messing up the other half of that pretty face…"

"Back off, creep, he's mine," interrupted a voice, as Poison Ivy strode into the room.

"Like hell, bitch!" snarled the man. "Beat it before something bad happens to you!"

"Now that's really no way to talk to a lady, is it?" asked a voice, as Joker entered the room, beaming. "Not that Pammie is what I'd call a lady, but she's certainly not a female dog. You need some insult that's like a female plant, or a female plant part – you could call her a pistil, and that would be perfectly acceptable."

"You freaks just stay away!" snapped the man. "He's mine! I owe him!"

"I owe him for murdering my babies!" retorted Ivy. "Whatever petty little squabble you have with him is nothing compared to that!"

"And I'm just here for the fun," said Joker. "The fun we're going to have with you if you don't let the District Attorney go. And when I say fun, I mean fun for me, which means complete agony for you."

"You're outnumbered, clown," growled the man, as his gang of four surrounded him. "What are you gonna do?"

"Oh Sharkey," sighed Joker, shaking his head. "I really wouldn't push me if I were you."

"Sharkey?" repeated Two-Face, then he shook his head. "Nah, that name still doesn't ring a bell."

"Sharkey Finn!" snapped the man. "You're telling me you don't remember sending down Sharkey Finn and the Jets?!"

"That sounds like the name of a terrible band," retorted Ivy.

"Wasn't that the name of one of the gangs in _West Side Story_?" asked Joker. "I'm pretty sure it was. It's weird to name your gang after a Broadway musical, just so you know, though I admire your guts. So you should get out of here before I spill 'em."

"Just back off, clown!" shouted Sharkey. "This isn't worth your life!"

"No," agreed Joker. "But it's more than worth yours."

He snapped his fingers to an imaginary beat, and began singing, "_When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way, from your first cigarette to your last dying day_. And guess what? That's today!"

Joker grabbed the pillowcase, and shoved it over Sharkey's head, holding it around his neck as he continued singing while Sharkey thrashed, struggling to breathe. The four men charged him, and Joker kept one arm around Sharkey's neck while he seized his knife in the other. He threw it at the man in front – it collided with his eye and he dropped to the ground, screaming. The men behind him tripped over him as Joker lunged forward to grab the knife out of the man's eye, using Sharkey as a shield to fend off the others. "You should join in the fun, Pammie!" he called, as he stabbed another man in the gut.

"No, you're on your own," retorted Ivy, examining her nails. "Your way of doing things is so messy and crude."

"That's the fun part!" exclaimed Joker, giggling as he stabbed another man in the face.

Ivy sighed, heading over to Two-Face and untying him. "I didn't need your help," he growled. "I had this under control."

"Sure, I could see that," said Ivy, sarcastically. "Typical ungrateful man, but I'm not going to let them kill you when I'm saving you for something much worse."

"Aw, how romantic," sighed Joker, as he dropped Sharkey's corpse to the ground among the other corpses. "There's no denying the love in your eyes, Pammie."

"You're not funny, you know," snapped Ivy. "I'm going back to bed – make sure nobody kills him before I can, J."

"Will do!" said Joker, saluting. He clapped Two-Face on the back. "C'mon, I'll get you a drink."

"Where did you get alcohol in here?" asked Two-Face, puzzled.

Joker laughed. "You're a funny guy, Harvey, you know that?" he chuckled. "Thinking I can't get anything I want. I'm the Joker, remember?" he asked, escorting him back to his cell and taking out two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

"That doesn't explain how you have alcohol," said Two-Face.

"I think it does – I'm the Joker, so anything I want, I get," retorted Joker, handing him a glass. "And for now, I want you alive."

"Thanks," said Two-Face, taking it from him. "Can I ask why?"

Joker shrugged. "You're a funny joke, you know," he said, sipping from his own glass. "A man who fought for justice and righteousness, and ending up just another inmate in Arkham Asylum, because ultimately that's where the fight for justice and righteousness leads you. It's crazy to do something like that in this crazy world, which is what I've been trying to show and tell Bats his whole life. I went through a period in my life where my idea of a joke was to show everyone else, particularly Batman, how cruel and random the world is, and how pointless the notions of order and sanity are. I kidnapped Commissioner Gordon, and crippled his kid to illustrate that. But nobody got it," he sighed. "They thought it was just another random act of cruelty on my part, when the truth is, I'm not the cruel one. That's the world, because anytime somebody tries to do good in this world, they end up murdered or mutilated. That's just the way of it," he added, draining his glass. "But hey, there's no point being miserable about it – it's pretty funny, when you think about it. The world's a madhouse, and the ones who see that clearly are locked up in an actual madhouse. Makes you want to laugh, doesn't it?"

"Not really," retorted Two-Face.

"Well, maybe you just need to get a sense of humor," said Joker, shrugging. "Anyway, I grew out of the making points stage of my life when I realized that people are too dumb to get that particular joke, even Batman. But you're basically Batman after he finally realizes he's crazy, you see. And the crusading DA and all round goody-goody being locked up in here with the rest of us criminals is an amusing idea to me. I don't want that joke ruined just yet, not before a few more punchlines. So you're safe in here for now."

"Until you get tired of the joke that is me, is that it?" asked Two-Face.

"Well, it's a pretty good joke," said Joker, shrugging. "And I don't usually get tired of those oldy but goody ones. But we'll see, won't we? I doubt I'll tire of it before Pammie decides she wants your blood to water her flowers. Women, huh?" he sighed, pouring another drink. "Glad I've managed to avoid that particular minefield. But then if you stick your manhood into a Venus fly trap, you're just asking to get it snapped off."

"Yeah…thanks for the image," said Two-Face, slowly.

"You're the one who did it," retorted Joker. "You don't see me getting involved with fellow patients, do you?"

"I was involved with her long before she was a patient here, and long before I thought I could ever be one too," retorted Two-Face. "I had no way of knowing we'd end up being locked up together in a small space like this."

"Yeah, but you can kinda tell crazy, right?" asked Joker. "I know I'd never get involved with any dame who gave off the crazy vibe, because I'd know I could never escape from her in here."

"Sometimes the crazy vibe is irresistible," retorted Two-Face. "In both yourself, and the person you're attracted to."

"Oh, she did some wild things in the sack, huh?" asked Joker. "Wanna tell me about 'em so I can use them as ammunition against her at a later date?"

"No," said Two-Face. "I don't want to remember anything about our relationship. It was a mistake, and just a con anyway. She never felt anything real for me. She made that very clear at the trial. And nobody likes remembering that they were the victim of a scam – it makes you doubt your own judgment about everything."

"Ah, so Pammie's to blame for the coin thing," said Joker, nodding.

"No, she was just one of many factors that made me unable to trust my own judgment anymore," said Two-Face. "I thought what we had was real, but if someone can take you in and make you believe something that convincingly…well, it's hard to trust people again, never mind yourself. Dr. Leland said I have a great support network, and I guess I do, with my friend Bruce Wayne and my fiancée…but it's trusting them that's the hard part."

"Yeah, trust is everything," agreed Joker, nodding. "Imagine if some heartless bastard decided to start playing on that insecurity by fermenting mistrust against your friend and your fiancée. I know that would be some disturbed scumbag's idea of a sick joke. Not me, of course – I have much better things to do with my time in here."

He drained his glass. "Well, I gotta go make those corpses smile so they'll be all happy when they're found in the morning," he said. "You enjoy the rest of that scotch – I think you need it, and I can get lots more."

"Thanks, but I think I'll just go back to my cell and go to bed," muttered Two-Face. "I just want this horrible day to be over already."

"Isn't it amazing how two people can have two different impressions of the exact same event?" asked Joker, beaming at him. "I think it's been a great day. But then people don't call me crazy for nothing!" he chuckled, skipping off while humming _Gee, Officer Krupke._

Two-Face sighed, looked at the bottle of scotch, flipped his coin, and then took the bottle when it landed bad side up. He headed back to his cell, and was surprised to see someone else there.

"Sorry, I just had to adjust the temperature," said Crane, crawling out from under the bed. "It's very sensitive, and if it overheats, it could expel some toxins. I'll need to check on it tomorrow morning too, so don't be alarmed if you wake up to find me under here."

"You know what, why don't you just stay here?" asked Two-Face. "I'll just cope with being opposite Pammie. Better her than being gassed in my sleep," he muttered, as he headed back to his original cell. "Although I guess she might try that one day."

Ivy was curled up with a plant, stroking it as she read a gardening magazine in bed. "So…we're gonna be stuck in here together for a little while at least," said Two-Face.

"And?" she asked, looking up at him.

"You think maybe…we could call a truce?" he asked slowly. "From all the bitching and sniping and insults and attempts to maim or murder each other?"

Ivy looked at him. "No," she said simply, returning her attention to her magazine.

"Great," sighed Two-Face, lying down on his bed. "Good talk. Happy first day to me."


	5. Chapter 5

"And then J, being the two-faced bastard that he is, did in fact enact a scheme to completely obliterate my trust in both my friend and my fiancée," finished Two-Face in the present day. "One of which I lost forever, because I was convinced they were having an affair behind my back. All because the clown was bored and wanted to entertain himself by ruining someone's life."

"Hey, I helped," spoke up Harley. "I took the incriminating photo of the two of 'em, and told the papers they were engaged."

"Yeah, it was useful to have someone on the outside to make the setup a success before delivering the killer punchline," said Joker, nodding as he patted Harley's head. "Or the attempted killer punchline, in this case. And nobody is as effective at screwing up people's lives than my Harley girl."

"Aw, thanks, puddin'," said Harley, kissing his cheek.

"Thanks to both of you – that was a real nice thing to do to your fellow rogue," growled Two-Face.

"Funny though," said Joker, shrugging. "And that's what matters. Watching you flip on the only two people who still believed you could be cured, and then completely obliterate one of them from your life forever was a laugh riot. Plus it cleared the way for the happy revitalization of your relationship with Pammie. You look out for the welfare of two friends and clearly soulmates, and you get called a backstabber – the world's just crazy, I tell ya."

"You really are sick, aren't you?" asked Ivy.

"Geez, some people will take any nice act and twist it against you," sighed Harley. "But that says more about them than it does about you, puddin'."

"Yeah, I think it makes them realize how selfish and horrible they actually are by comparison," replied Joker, nodding. "When's the last time any of you ever did anything for me? Not you, Harley," he said, as her hand shot up.

"Why would any of us do anything for you?" demanded Ivy. "We hate your guts."

"Yes, you've done nothing but torment all of us since we arrived here," said Crane. "It's hard enough being locked up in an asylum without the resident clown making life even more hellish. But dealing with bullies has been the story of my life, and it was unlikely to change with my admittance to Arkham. And this was before Dr. Leland took charge, so there was one more bully overseeing the asylum."

"You're talking about Dr. Bartholomew?" asked Joker, incredulous. "I would never have called him a bully. He was the definition of a wet blanket, and a man who probably should have followed the career path of a kindergarten teacher or youth pastor."

"He was deeply, deeply saccharine," agreed Ivy, nodding. "I also don't see the bully connection."

"He bullied me on my first day," retorted Crane. "And I dealt with him as I do all bullies."

"If I recall, your first day was his last," said Joker. "Which is no coincidence. You spoiled my fun in irritating him, and I've had to make you pay for that ever since."

"You just said he was an ineffectual wet blanket," retorted Crane.

"Yeah, and that's why he was fun to irritate," said Joker, nodding. "He could never overtly respond to any of your bad behavior, although you'd see the cracks in his kumbaya façade starting to form as it got more extreme. You knew he'd snap one day, and it'd be spectacular. But you ruined his eventual descent from harmless ineffectual buffoon to psychotic murderer, so thanks a lot. It was beyond rude of you to just come in here and change everything."

"And this is why nobody should do nice things for anyone," muttered Crane.

"Oh, don't act like it was a favor, Professor," snapped Joker. "It's not a favor if it's a pleasure, and I'm pretty sure it was a pleasure for you."

"No, I took no pleasure in it, except the pleasure of administering a kind of justice," retorted Crane. "Mostly it was just something I had to do. The rage couldn't be contained anymore, and it just exploded out of me uncontrollably. It's happened a few times in my life before, once when I wounded a bully at school with a knife, and then again after I was fired from the university and took on the Scarecrow persona by fear gassing the faculty at a fundraiser."

"I bet that showed 'em," said Joker, sarcastically. "Nothing makes people take you more seriously than wearing a costume."

"So why do you do it?" demanded Ivy.

"I don't wear costumes, Pammie – I wear an impeccably tailored, hand-made suit," replied Joker.

"Thank you – me too. I've been trying to tell her that," muttered Two-Face.

"And I don't ask to be taken seriously," continued Joker. "I'm a clown, for God's sake. Only a fool would take that seriously."

"I suppose the powerful hallucinogenic effect of my toxin doesn't require that I wear a costume, but it just seemed appropriate to appear as something greater than myself, as fear incarnate," replied Crane. "Nobody ever feared Jonathan Crane, but they would fear the Scarecrow. As Dr. Bartholomew learned to his cost."

**Patient: Crane, Jonathan, MD, PhD – Day 1**

"Well, this is a fascinating report Dr. Long has sent over," said Dr. Bartholomew, studying Professor Jonathan Crane over the rim of his glasses.

"It's a pack of lies, no doubt," muttered Crane.

"So you're denying that you crashed the university's fundraiser dressed in a Scarecrow costume and with your own brand of hallucinogenic fear toxin?" asked Dr. Bartholomew.

"No, I'm not denying that," retorted Crane. "Those are facts. But I am denying everything else he's written about me, which is probably nothing more than conjecture and opinion."

"He says you were always solitary and resentful of your colleagues' success, which you perceived were unjustly favored over yours," continued Dr. Bartholomew.

"Well, they were," retorted Crane. "I was creating a fear toxin which changes how people perceive the nature of reality, while the head of my department was more interested in research into phrenology, which I thought had gone out with the Victorians, but apparently not in academia. Imagine the idea that you can label a man as a criminal just by looking at him."

"Indeed, it does seem barbaric," agreed Dr. Bartholomew. "And I'm very sorry you feel you were passed over for recognition in favor of your colleagues. That must have been very grating."

"I don't _feel _I was passed over – I _was _passed over," corrected Crane. "It's not a matter of my perception – it's a matter of the truth."

"Well, people perceive truths in different ways, don't they?" asked Dr. Bartholomew. "I would guess that Dr. Long has written what he perceives to be the truth. So it's difficult to tell where the truth really lies."

"It lies in a record of facts – I can give you examples of times I was blatantly told that I was a lunatic, and not a real researcher, and many, many other instances," retorted Crane.

"That would be your perception of those instances," replied Dr. Bartholomew. "But I daresay your colleagues would have different perceptions. So you see why it's so difficult to determine the truth."

"No, I don't," retorted Crane. "How can someone misperceive when one is told that 'You and your theories are completely insane and a disgrace to the profession'?"

"Maybe they meant insane and disgrace in their most positive sense," replied Dr. Bartholomew. "You mustn't jump to conclusions about it."

"How exactly can being called insane and a disgrace be misconstrued as a positive thing?" asked Crane.

"Now, now, there's no 'misconstrue' here," said Dr. Bartholomew. "We all just have different and equally valid perspectives. For instance, your perspective is that you are justified in frightening innocent people to death, while mine is that that might not be the best way to go about things. I don't want to invalidate your perspective, but I would like us to come to some sort of compromise in our perspectives, perhaps something that allows you to feel justified in your anger without actually hurting innocent people, hmm?"

"I don't believe those two perspectives are reconcilable," said Crane.

"Not to contradict your belief, which is perfectly valid, but I believe my belief is also perfectly valid," replied Dr. Bartholomew. "So let's try to come to some understanding while you're in here, shall we?"

"How would we even do that, with two contradictory sets of beliefs?" asked Crane, slowly.

"I suppose we'll just have to hope for the best," said Dr. Bartholomew. "Which is my method on a daily basis – just try to understand, and hope for the best."

"I don't really see how you expect to make any progress without any kind of plan or strategy…" began Crane.

"Progress is not a helpful concept, Professor Crane," interrupted Dr. Bartholomew. "I don't like thinking about therapy in terms of progress. That's a very confrontational word. This is just about trying to help you feel better about yourself and your situation."

"My situation of people treating me so terribly all my life that I've been driven to become a costumed villain locked up in a mental asylum for the criminally insane?" asked Crane. "Is there a way to feel better about that situation?"

"We'll find out," replied Dr. Bartholomew, smiling benignly. "I certainly hope so, don't you?"

"I…suppose," said Crane, slowly.

"Just bear in mind, there's always time to heal," said Dr. Bartholomew, patting Crane on the shoulder. "Guards, please escort Professor Crane to his cell – I think the only one left is next to the Joker," he said, as he buzzed them in. "Which I'm going to apologize in advance for, but maybe he won't be so bad for you. I have tried to be patient with him, and I have tried to understand him, but he simply will not do me the same courtesy. It's baffling to encounter someone so determined to be uncooperative and offensive – I just honestly don't know what to do with him."

"Oh yes, a psychotic clown," said Crane, rolling his eyes. "How terrifying."

His tone was sarcastic, but he realized he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt fear at the thought of interacting with the Joker on a daily basis. The man _was _terrifying, because his jovial appearance belied the heart of a cold, psychopathic lunatic, a man who killed for the fun of it, who thought murder was a joke. Anyone in his right mind would be afraid of him, and Crane at least still believed himself to be in his right mind.

However, his first personal impression of the Joker, when he was confined in the cell next to him, was of a man concentrating intently on scribbling on a paper in front of him, a man who didn't even look up at his new neighbor. Which was infuriating – it made Crane feel like he wasn't even worthy of attention. The only thing worse than getting the attention of a bully was to feel so unworthy of attention as to not get it from anybody.

Crane loudly cleared his throat, but the Joker didn't look up. "Hello, I'm your new cell neighbor, Jonathan Crane," he voiced at last.

Joker did look up. "And what makes you think I care?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know," said Crane. "I just thought you might be interested."

"Why would I be interested in you?" Joker asked, his eyes narrowing in scorn. "Are you somebody important?"

"I'm the Scarecrow," said Crane.

"Never heard of you," retorted Joker, returning his attention to the paper he was working on. "All I know is, there's always some pathetic up-and-coming criminal trying to compete with my greatness in this town, and they all fail. Why would you be any different? And why would I be interested in another pathetic pretender to my throne?"

"I'm not trying to usurp your throne, whatever you think that is…" began Crane.

"So the Scarecrow isn't a costumed criminal bent on vengeance against Batman?" interrupted Joker, looking up at him again.

"Well, no, he is that," agreed Crane. "But not just Batman…"

"Well, stay away from Batman," muttered Joker. "He's mine. That's what I mean by usurping my throne – trying to distract my nemesis from me. All these costumed weirdos try it, but none can replace me, or the relationship we have, and frankly, I'm a little resentful they keep trying. It's like how Elvis would have felt about Elvis impersonators – there can be only one king of rock and roll, and that's me. And it's insulting more than anything else, that people think they can mimic my greatness, as if it's so common that anybody can do it."

"First of all, I have no intention of trying to mimic your so-called greatness," snapped Crane. "My descent into criminality has nothing to do with you, so don't flatter yourself."

"Likewise, don't flatter yourself that I have the slightest interest in who you are, or in interacting with you at all," retorted Joker. "Just another amateur, like the Weed Lady over there."

"You're calling me an amateur, really?" demanded Poison Ivy, from the cell across the hall. "Wasn't your last plan to kill Batman scuppered before it started because you forgot to wire the dynamite?"

"I didn't forget – my henchmen just didn't do it properly," snapped Joker. "You can't blame that on me – it's incredibly difficult to get good help these days, sadly," he sighed. "You know why that is? It's because the flood of second-rate supercriminals in this town stretches the already stretched henchmen pool, so only the dregs are available on short notice. Another reason why I resent amateurs gumming up the works."

"I don't use henchmen, so don't blame me," retorted Ivy.

"No, you just hypnotize 'em with a kiss, and then feed 'em to your plants," retorted Joker. "Which also doesn't help with the henchmen shortage, FYI."

"I am not an amateur!" snapped Crane. "I fear gassed an entire university, thank you very much!"

"Oooh, you scared some eggheads!" said Joker, in mock admiration. "Well, now I'm really impressed! That's not difficult – just tell 'em they're all gonna die alone, which they are, because dames don't go for guys like that. Probably the real reason you're in here, in fact."

"No, I was not driven to do this by a lack of female companionship!" snapped Crane.

"Good," said Ivy. "Women don't exist to be your motivation. And we don't owe you companionship."

"All I'm saying is, I think a lotta the freaks in here would be a lot less angry if they just got laid once in a while," said Joker.

"What, like you?" demanded Ivy. "I bet you've never gotten laid, J – no woman would be crazy enough to do that."

"I think you're interested, Weed Lady, which is why you're always so hostile toward me," said Joker with a grin. "It's overcompensation for your uncontrollable attraction."

"In your dreams," retorted Ivy. "I have a little more self-respect than that, thank you very much. And you're really not my type, J, since my type is, y'know, attractive."

"Not this loser, then," said Joker, gesturing at Crane. "Good to know."

"I am not a loser!" snapped Crane.

"So what are you doing in here then?" demanded Joker. "You lost to Batman, right? That makes you a loser."

"But don't worry – we all are," said Ivy. "Joker included, although he doesn't like to admit it. But he's lost to Batman more than any of us."

"There's a difference between losing, and letting him win," retorted Joker, returning his attention to his plan. "Which is what I do."

"Keep telling yourself that," sighed Ivy, rolling her eyes.

"I won't lose next time I confront Batman, however," said Crane. "I know exactly how to deal with bullies like that."

"Keep telling yourself that," repeated Ivy. "We all do."

"Batman got the best of me once, but next time I'll be more careful," continued Crane. "Do something he doesn't expect, and cover my tracks, until he's too late to stop me…"

"He's never too late," interrupted Joker. "He always arrives just in time. You need to plan your schemes accordingly. Batman will show up, and he will try and stop you. You need to factor that into any plans you make, or you'll always fail. Free bit of advice on your first day, even though I suspect you won't last five minutes out there in the real world. Better to stay here in Arkham, do what you're told, then get outta here and go back to whatever it is you were doing before you decided that supervillianism would be a fun career choice for you."

"I was a professor of psychology at Gotham University, so I'm not exactly an idiot," snapped Crane.

"Really? That's not been my experience of higher education," said Ivy. "A certain Dr. Woodrue I knew was a complete idiot."

"And trust me, teaching spoiled college kids and reading books is nothing like fighting the Bat," agreed Joker. "You should go back to that, not try to get out of the sandbox and play with the big boys. Or big girls, I guess, although Pammie's also a pathetic pretender to my throne."

"Not everything is about you, J," sighed Ivy, rolling her eyes. "But I agree with you on this – the real danger in the world of a supercriminal makes it no place for you, Professor."

Crane glared from Joker to Ivy. "You know what, I'll show you," he snapped. "I'll show both of you. I'm just as capable as either of you, and I'll prove it."

"Yeah, bust outta here and get your ass kicked by Batman, that'll show us," said Joker, sarcastically. "I swear, the freaks just get more desperate in here. A college professor thinking he can compete with real criminals – what next?"

"Maybe a clown who thinks he can compete with real criminals," retorted Ivy.

"Or a mutant plant freak," retorted Joker. "Nobody's scared of flower power, toots."

"Would you two stop bickering?" demanded Crane. "Honestly, how do you survive in here with every day being a fight?"

"That's _how _we survive in here, duh," said Joker, sticking out his tongue. "Every fight is a preparation for another fight. That's how you make yourself strong. You're a teacher – you should know that."

"Well, I suppose I do know that," muttered Crane. "From my earliest days at school. I was terribly bullied…"

Joker burst out laughing. "So that's it? That's your tragic backstory? Little nerd was picked on as a kid, so takes vengeance years later as a costumed supervillain?"

"No, it's not as simple as that!" snapped Crane. "And what's your tragic backstory?"

"I don't have one, which is why I'm the best," retorted Joker. "If you give audiences a backstory with character development and all, and then you fall short of those expectations, they get pissed. Much better to be an undefined agent of fun and laughter and chaos. That way you don't have to follow narrative structure, and you don't piss off anyone. You're just beloved by legions of fans forever."

"Don't mind J's psychotic ramblings," said Ivy. "And I sympathize with your backstory. But I still think you're all wrong for this game."

"He won't last five minutes!" Joker chuckled, returning his attention to his plan. "Oooh, revenge of the nerd, been there, done that! The Scarecrow, honestly! Next time maybe don't pick an identity from _The Wizard of Oz _if you want to frighten people!"

Joker began whistling, "If I Only Had a Brain," while Crane glared back at him, fuming in rage. But he had dealt with bullies before, and Crane knew that the only way to get them to stop picking on you was to prove that you were just as strong as they were. He had done the same with the bully who had tormented him at school, and once he was shown to be just as violent and powerful, he wasn't picked on by him anymore. Fear kept everyone in line.

When it was time for his therapy, Crane was returned to Dr. Bartholomew's office. "Thank heaven," Dr. Bartholomew sighed, as he went to retrieve his file from the cabinet. "After two hours of dealing with the Joker, I'm so glad I have an unchallenging, uncomplicated patient like you to fall back on," he said, smiling at him. "You have a clear backstory and motivation, which I sympathize with, although obviously neither of those things make hurting innocent people justifiable. But you're clearly a straightforward, textbook case of childhood projection of an inferiority complex, which means, while it's unfortunate that you had to suffer so in your childhood, it should be simple enough to help you overcome your demons, and send you back to your career in academia as a healthy, happy, and whole human being. Let's take the first step on that road together, shall we?"

As seemingly innocuous as these words were, they were the final straw for Crane. He had hidden a small capsule of fear gas in his mouth, as a sort of suicide pill, and he resolutely clamped his jaw down on it.

His intention to frighten Dr. Bartholomew to death worked – the man had a heart condition and couldn't be saved when the ambulance got there. Crane was immune to the effects of his own toxin, and so he sat calmly and quietly watching as the paramedics and police futilely rushed around trying to save the doctor. When he was at last returned to his cell, he smiled, sure that this would make him as feared and respected as anyone else in here.

Of course this was Arkham, and the rules of the madhouse weren't the same as the rules outside of it.

"Dr. Bartholomew's reign is over," announced Crane. "I destroyed him with my fear toxin."

There was silence from the rest of the inmates, but annoyingly, it wasn't the silence of fear. It was the silence of apathy. Joker remained quietly engaged in his plan, and Ivy didn't even look up from the plant she was pruning.

"I said I killed Dr. Bartholomew," repeated Crane.

"Well, bully for you," retorted Joker, still not looking up. "But I dunno why you'd have done that – no joke in it, and he was harmless enough."

"No, but he, like the rest of you, underestimated me," replied Crane. "He said I was a simple, straightforward case who could be cured in no time. I think he learned his lesson, don't you?"

"Dead people don't learn lessons," retorted Ivy, also not looking up. "I really don't know what you were trying to accomplish by killing him – they'll just bring in another doctor to replace him. At least Bartholomew was a pushover – the next one might be some crazy zealot type who believes in medieval punishments for lunatics. And if that happens, I'll kill you myself, right after I kill him."

"Aren't you two afraid of me?" demanded Crane. "My first day here and I take down the head of the hospital…"

"I've taken down more heads than you can count," interrupted Joker. "Plus thousands of various doctors, guards, orderlies, and nurses. I left Bartholomew around because he was a soft touch, and I think I was pushing him toward his breaking point, which would have been glorious to see. But instead you've interrupted my experiment right in the middle, and I'll have to start all over again when they bring in another head doctor. So if your aim was to piss me off, congrats, Professor. I guess if you wanted to be noticed, you have been, but not in a good way. In a 'you've just been added to my list of fellow inmates who I won't mind mysteriously going missing' way. You better hope I can find something to torment you with to keep my interest, otherwise I might accidentally kill you in a breakout or something. A lot of pointless, nameless, stupid characters get killed by me in breakouts or something, and that's what you'll always be to me, Professor."

"And I'm not afraid of men, no matter what they do," retorted Ivy. "I'm stronger than any of you pathetic meatsacks, so I really hope you weren't trying to impress me, because you haven't. I'm not impressed by men, and I don't care about men, so why don't you leave me alone before I decide that my babies need another meal?"

"You know what, fine," snapped Crane. "Fine, I don't need respect or even acknowledgment from you people. I've been on my own my whole life, and I knew that was unlikely to change in here. So just forget it. Looks like Dr. Bartholomew died for nothing," he sighed to himself. "But I suppose it's good to know my immunity works – that would have made things worse in here, if possible, fear gassing myself on my first day. The last thing I want to be is a laughing stock among these inmates. Fortunately I don't see that happening for any reason."


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, that hope went out the window real quick," said Joker in the present day. "Since pretty much everything you are and everything you do makes you a laughing stock in here. And not a fun, ha ha laughing stock, but more like what a pathetic human being that I don't even feel sorry for laughing stock."

"Mr. J, there's no need to be mean," said Harley. "And I don't see why anyone would laugh at Johnny – he's done no worse than the rest of us."

"He's done substantially worse than all of us," retorted Joker. "He's a lot older than all of us when he broke bad, for one thing, which means he wasted most of his life being a good guy with nothing to show for it."

"I'm not that old!" snapped Crane.

"And he's got me to show for it," retorted Harley. "He taught me to be a shrink."

"And he did such a bang up job on that, that you're now a notorious supercriminal," agreed Joker, nodding. "It's just another failure on his undoubtedly long, long list."

"We've all failed," spoke up Tetch. "Harley's right – Jonathan's no worse than the rest of us when it comes to that. Everyone's in here either because of personal failings, or failing to complete some sort of grand venture."

"Attempted murder in Pam's case," said Two-Face.

"For the last time, it wasn't murder – it was justice!" snapped Ivy. "You're the murderer!"

"If your criteria for being a murderer is having killed plants, I think everyone on earth fits that description," said Tetch.

"I don't know if I've killed more humans or plants in my life, but I've definitely killed plenty of both," said Joker.

"Oh yeah, I'm terrible with plants," agreed Harley, nodding. "They always seem to die on me. Some people have a green thumb, and some people don't, and I sure don't, while Red sure does. Course she's also got green skin, so it makes sense that she'd have a green thumb."

"You think that would have tipped you off that she was a freak before you started dating, Harvey," said Joker. "From a certain point of view, it's really your own fault that you were poisoned for going out with someone like that in the first place."

"I'm not shallow enough to judge people by their skin color, thanks," snapped Two-Face. "Anyway, there are lots of unique-looking people in Gotham – you can't judge them all by their appearance."

"You can with most of us in here," retorted Joker. "I think you were just attracted to the exotic aspect of her because you thought she'd do kinky things in the sack. And she probably did."

"Why don't you bite me, clown?" snapped Ivy. "And can we please stop bringing up my and Harvey's relationship?"

"Why? That's what got you in here, isn't it?" asked Joker.

"No, like I told Harvey, they originally put me in Blackgate," retorted Ivy. "But then they had a re-evaluation hearing after I broke outta there, and they suddenly decided I was crazy."

"What a shocking conclusion," muttered Two-Face.

"I think I belonged in Blackgate," continued Ivy, ignoring him. "I still do. I'm not crazy, after all. You people do crazy things because you genuinely _are _crazy – Harvey's brain was broken when his face split, so now he's a slave to the coin, Tetch's brain was broken when a woman didn't return the affection he felt he was entitled from her, Crane's brain broke when he realized that he had reached middle-age wasting his entire life doing nothing of relevance, and Harley's brain broke when Joker snapped it because he thought it would be a funny joke. And Joker's brain supposedly broke when Batman knocked him into that acid vat, although I'm pretty sure he had to always have been a little nuts – extreme personality shifts like his don't occur overnight."

"So you're saying your brain didn't break when you became a plant/human hybrid?" asked Joker. "You're saying you were always this spiteful and vindictive toward the human race, and far too loving towards plants?"

"I've never liked people as a whole, no," retorted Ivy. "And I've always loved plants. That's the reason I became a plant/human hybrid – I went into an area I was interested in to help the things I care about. What happened to me would never have happened except for my passion for plants."

"And your passion for a guy who was interested in using you as a science experiment," agreed Joker, nodding. "Which I guess gave you a perverse justification to use Harvey for revenge, since he's a man and we're all the same…"

"Harvey had nothing to do with Jason," interrupted Ivy. "I was doing illegal things to help out my babies before I met him – I used to break into labs to steal samples which were being experimented on as GMOs. People have no right to mutilate innocent plants like that."

"But you have a right to mutilate innocent people," muttered Two-Face. "Got it. See, I think it's the irrationality of your basic premise, of plant lives over humans, that makes people think you're crazy."

"Are animal rights activists crazy?" demanded Ivy. "Or vegetarians, or vegans?"

"Frequently," said Joker, nodding. "I mean, I love my hyenas, but they in no way deserve the same rights as me. I don't even know what they'd do with the right to bear arms, since they don't have opposable thumbs and all. Mind you, I'm not sure I'd eat them unless I had to, but I'd say the same thing about humans, really."

"I don't believe you'd eat the babies, puddin'," said Harley.

"If I had to, I would," said Joker. "I'd eat you if I had to, and don't think I wouldn't."

"Mmm, I wish you would, puddin'," giggled Harley.

"My point is, my so-called insanity is just a matter of perspective," continued Ivy.

"Good Lord, isn't everyone's?" demanded Tetch. "Harley could tell us that – insanity is very rarely objective. Except in Joker's case."

"I'd tell you even then," agreed Harley. "I don't think Mr. J's so crazy, after all, and I'm a shrink, so I should know crazy."

"Should, but don't," retorted Ivy. "Just like every other doctor in here who certified me. I had one hearing in front of a panel of 'em, all men, naturally, and they unanimously ruled me insane. It was just a ridiculous miscarriage of justice, and the definition of a kangaroo court. And then I got put in here with Joker, which was the definition of hell. At least in Blackgate, people knew not to mess with me."

"I just tried to make you feel welcome, Pammie, and I got a load of crap for it," sniffed Joker. "I told you, no one ever appreciates the nice things I do."

"I don't recall you doing any nice things, on my first day, or any other day," said Ivy. "But it's sorta blurry, like I said – I mainly remember fuming because I knew I shouldn't be in here. And because, as usual, a bunch of men thought they knew better than me, which is the story of my life."

"Good, then we don't need to hear it," said Joker, smiling.

"Well, you will anyway," snapped Ivy, opening her file. "So there."

**Patient: Isley, Pamela, PhD – Day 1**

Poison Ivy missed Blackgate, and that was probably something nobody had ever thought in relation to Blackgate before. While of course she hated the building which had been the reason for the murder of so many of her precious babies, and the reason she had tried to kill Harvey Dent, which was the crime that had got her locked up in there in the first place, she also resented people labeling her as insane and transferring her to Arkham, to be locked up with people who had completely lost their grip on reality and to be forced to do activities like basket weaving. Was there any greater indignity than being told you were crazy when you knew perfectly well that you weren't?

She clutched her plant protectively to her chest as she was led down the corridor of the asylum, glancing into the cells and seeing the pathetic creatures locked up inside them. "Don't be afraid, baby," she murmured to the plant as the door clanged shut on her cell. "We'll be all right. They can lock us away from the sunlight, but we'll always find a way to grow, won't we?"

"You need to hand the plant over now," said the guard, holding out his hand. "Dr. Bartholomew's orders – we don't want a repeat of the breakout you staged at Blackgate."

"This plant had nothing to do with that," snapped Ivy, clasping the plant tighter to her. "And taking it away from me will just make me angrier. And trust me, you don't want to see that."

"It's more than my job's worth to let you keep it," retorted the guard, trying to grab it through the bars. Ivy pulled it away, and the guard sighed, signaling for three others to follow him into the cell. "Restrain the patient," he ordered.

Ivy lurched back from them, and the plant in her arms suddenly lurched forward, the stems of the roses leaping out and entwining themselves around the throats of the guards. "We need backup!" shouted one of the guards, as they struggled against the plant. "Subdue her and it!"

"Which is which?" scoffed one guard, as he struck Ivy across the back of her head with his stick, knocking her to the ground. "This thing ain't a woman anymore. She looks more freak than most of the freaks in here, and that's saying a lot."

He seized the plant, which Ivy had dropped, and then the guards left the cell, slamming the door after them. "Don't worry, baby – I'll get you back!" called Ivy after the plant.

"Talking to a plant, huh?" chuckled a voice. "Not the craziest thing I've seen in here, but certainly not the sanest. Unless you're calling one of the guards baby and wanting to get him back."

"Plants respond to the sound of human voices," retorted Ivy. "It's comforting to them. And no, I think I can do better romantically than a random Arkham guard, thanks."

"Yeah, they do have shorter life spans than those red shirts on _Star Trek_," said the voice. "Unless that's what you're going for, black widow style and all. Of course the Arkham guards' pay is as limited as their life span, so I can't see that being a viable plan for any person in their right mind. But then you are in Arkham, so maybe it is."

"I was talking to the plant, because I'm Poison Ivy," growled Ivy. "I can communicate with plants, and that one was just stolen from me."

"Oh, you _are _black widow style!" chuckled the voice. "You're the gal who tried to bump off Harvey Dent! Though friendly piece of advice on your first day – usually you murder him after the wedding if it's his money you're after."

"I wasn't after his money – it was revenge for him murdering my babies," growled Ivy. "I destroy all men who would hurt my babies, or steal my babies, in this case."

"Oh, right, the weeds are your babies," drawled the voice, sarcastically. "You really do belong in here, don't you, fruit loop?"

"Said the pot to the…Joker," stammered Ivy, realizing who she was speaking to as he suddenly appeared at the bars of his cell, beaming at her.

"Yeah, introductions are never really necessary for me," he chuckled. "Or you, I would imagine, Green Bean. Whatever you say about comforting human voices, most people don't go around talking to plants."

"Well, most people are idiots," retorted Ivy. "Present company included, I imagine."

"Now, that's no way to be," said Joker, still smiling at her. "I know my reputation precedes me, and I'm anything but an idiot, as you well know. And I wouldn't start your first day in here getting on my bad side."

"I'm above petty human mind games, and personal politics with useless meatsacks," retorted Ivy. "I do what I have to do, and if you don't like it, that's not my problem. Right now, I'm getting my plant back," she muttered, looking around the cell for some way out of it.

"Seems like if you'd like to get out of here, you'd be even less hostile toward a potential ally," said Joker.

"I told you, I don't need worthless human allies," retorted Ivy, climbing up on the bed and trying to examine the vent above it. "All I need is me and my baby."

She tried to prise open the vent, but it held firm. She tried to brace her weight against the bed for added force, but the result was the same. "They're stuck in there pretty good – you'd need a crowbar or something to pry it open," commented Joker.

"Well, I'm not going to get a crowbar in here, am I?" demanded Ivy, straining to pull it off again.

"Maybe one of your worthless human allies has one," said Joker, lightly.

"That would be pretty unlikely…" began Ivy, rounding on him in frustration, but her jaw dropped when she saw him whistling while twirling a crowbar between his fingers.

"But unlikely things do happen in the madhouse, don't they?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Give it to me," said Ivy, reaching out across the cell block.

"Nope, nope, nope, don't want to," said Joker, shaking his head. "This is my lucky Robin beating crowbar – I don't just loan it out to randomers I've just met. Particularly ones who refer to me as a useless meatsack."

"I can't help that that's what you are, but if you give that crowbar to me now, I'll save your death for last when I take over this asylum and murder everyone in it," growled Ivy.

Joker burst out laughing. "Wow, you're consistent, I'll give you that! Rather than change tack from hostile to maybe being nice to someone who's in a position to help you, you just double down on the hostility! I like that! I respect conviction, and any dame who'd go for threats over the charm offensive is an ok dame in my book!"

"I do normally go for the charm offensive with men, but somehow I don't think it would work with you," retorted Ivy. "The rumors are you're in love with Batman, so you couldn't possibly have any interest in a gorgeous woman like me. And frankly, I'd rather be sick than cozy up to you."

"I'm into dames, just not freakish green-skinned ones who try to poison people they're involved with," retorted Joker. "But no, I prefer the threats, impotent as they are. You could never take over this asylum or kill everyone in it."

"Why not? Because I'm a woman?" demanded Ivy.

"Because I won't let you," retorted Joker. "The only person who takes over this asylum is me. This is my castle in my kingdom of Gotham, and the last thing I'm going to do is let the village idiot have a shot at ruling it."

"I'm not an idiot, and this isn't a castle!" snapped Ivy. "It's a prison for the criminally insane, which I am not! I'll teach them to stick me in here, and to hit me, and to steal my baby! And if you try to stop me from doing that, I'll kill you too!"

"Again, something I'm not going to let you do," retorted Joker. "You're a relative criminal amateur compared to me, toots, so just cool your jets and your homicidal streak for a moment. Not that I don't like that in a dame, but you're way over the top."

"_I'm _way over the top?" repeated Ivy.

"Yeah – it's your first day here and you're already threatening to kill everyone and everything," said Joker, nodding. "That's over the top. You need to take a minute and think if this is really the best course of action for you."

"What, like you do?" demanded Ivy. "Don't pretend like you ever have plans!"

"I have jokes," retorted Joker. "You can't set up a punchline if you don't know where the joke is going. Now obviously most of my routine is improvised, but even the best improviser has a general idea of the direction they want to go, in my case, killing Batman. In your case, it's getting your plant back. You can improvise however you want, but if I were you, I'd be a little better at it by not starting off with insulting your audience. And I'd use the talents I have to my utmost advantage. For instance, in your case, since you believe yourself to be gorgeous, I would use that to my advantage rather than trying to pry open the grate. Nobody's born with every talent, well, except me, but not everyone can be me. You should use the skills you have to attack a problem, not ones you wish you had. You don't have the strength to rip off that grate, or a crowbar, or anybody who's going to give you a crowbar. So you'll just have to use what you got to work your way out of the situation you find yourself in. It's called self-reliance, and it's about making things happen, not threatening to make impossible things happen."

"Don't you dare lecture me on self-reliance, you patronizing, paternalistic creep!" snapped Ivy. "Just give me the damn crowbar!"

"Now giving you stuff would be even more patronizing and paternalistic, wouldn't it?" asked Joker, grinning. "Especially giving you this phallic symbol here. You're empowered to get yourself out of this mess, Planty, so get to it, or you're just spouting a bunch of garbage, empty words just like your empty threats. If you want to be a force in this town, you gotta do stuff. Use the force, don't just quote it, to coin a phrase," he chuckled.

"If I had my plant, I'd have it strangle you," growled Ivy.

"But you don't," retorted Joker. "So what are you gonna do to get it?"

Ivy sighed heavily. "This is why I hang out with plants – so much better company than human slime," she sighed. "But desperate times, I guess."

She gave a final push against the grate, and then gave up, heading over to the bars and looking around for a guard. "Hey, sweetie, you wanna come over here and get to know me better?" she purred, eyeing one across the hall and batting her eyes.

"No…no thanks," stammered the guard.

"Aw, I think you do," she purred, undoing a button on her top and then concentrating on releasing her pheromone signature. "C'mon, come and play in Ivy's garden."

The guard was unable to resist her, and staggered over to the cell, where Ivy promptly seized him by the hair and slammed his face into the bars, knocking him unconscious. Then she bent down and grabbed the keys from his belt, unlocking her cell door.

"There, y'see? That wasn't so hard, was it?" asked Joker.

"Depends – coming on to worthless meatsacks sometimes feels pretty degrading," she growled, pushing open the door. "Sometimes you'd just prefer to kill them rather than seduce them."

"Wouldn't know – killing is my usual go-to method," said Joker. "Seducing might be fun someday though, who knows? Just gotta find the right gal who'd go for a guy like me."

"No woman is that crazy," retorted Ivy, storming out of her cell and over to his. "Now I want to beat some useless men to death, so give me the crowbar."

"Haven't we been over this?" asked Joker, raising an eyebrow.

"As a supposedly heterosexual man, you should be powerless against my pheromones," retorted Ivy. "You should do whatever I say, and whatever I want, and I want you to give me that crowbar and then go stick your head down the toilet and keep it there until you drown."

"Well, someone certainly has a high opinion of herself," chuckled Joker. "That's good – confidence is key to success. But I think your whole pheromone crap is like the Jedi mind trick – it's only effective against the weak-minded, or people who are more ruled by their bodies than their minds. And that ain't me, toots. I'm a Jedi, like my father before me, not like your idiot stormtroopers who can't find the droids they're looking for."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Ivy.

"Oh my God, have you not seen _Star Wars_?" demanded Joker. "What kinda freak hasn't seen _Star Wars_?!"

"Someone who doesn't waste their time on stupid sci-fi movies for children," retorted Ivy.

"Well, now you're definitely not getting the crowbar," snapped Joker. "And you'd better hope I don't beat you to death with it next. You insult Luke Skywalker, and you insult me personally, you know."

"I don't have time for your insanity!" snapped Ivy. "I have to go rescue my plant baby from the clutches of insensitive humans, and if you won't give me that crowbar, then I'll just have to beat them to death with my bare hands!"

"There you go – empowered!" exclaimed Joker, beaming. "What could be more feminist than beating men to death with your bare hands? I'm sure that's what Wonder Woman does to relax, and she's the most feminist character ever! You go, girl!" he said, holding up his hand for a high five.

Ivy just looked at him, and then lunged forward, grabbing hold of the crowbar. "Let go of it!"

"No, you let go of it!" he shouted, trying to tug it back. "You don't want me spreading the rumor that you had your hands all over my crowbar, do you? People will talk!"

"I want you to let go!" shrieked Ivy, lurching the crowbar to the side and slamming Joker's hand against the bars. He hissed, letting go of the crowbar, and Ivy raced off with it down the hall.

"I'll get you for this, toots!" Joker shouted after her. "From now on, we're mortal enemies!"

"Fine by me!" called back Ivy. She dashed out of the cell block and headed toward the break room, throwing open the door and looking around for the guard who had struck her. She saw him, and her plant, which had been put on the table as a centerpiece. Before anyone could react, Ivy leapt on the guard, knocking him to the ground, and started striking him across the face with the crowbar.

"How do you like that?!" she shrieked, hitting him again and again.

"Get her off me!" shouted the guard, but as his comrades rushed to help him, the plant, fueled by Ivy's rage, burst all of its branches and roots out of its pot, seizing the guards and strangling them. It spread its extremities all over the break room, sealing the door and breaking the windows as it grew out toward the sun.

"How many are dead?" asked Dr. Bartholomew, as he surveyed the chaos about an hour later. The fire brigade had been called, and they were chopping down the remaining roots as doctors tried to disentangle the plants from the bodies.

"Ten guards, eight doctors, six nurses, and three orderlies," said the head of security.

"I suppose the silver lining is that twenty-seven dead doesn't even come close to Joker's record," sighed Dr. Bartholomew.

"Yes! In your face, freak!" shouted Joker across the cell block. "Doc, do you think when the cops are done with the crowbar for evidence and all, that I could have it back? It's got a lotta sentimental value to me…"

"We'll see, Joker," replied Dr. Bartholomew. "And this all started how?"

"The guards took the plant away from her," said the head of security, nodding at Ivy, who was back in her cell. She was sitting on the bed with the plant on her lap, and she hummed soothingly to it as she stroked its leaves. "As you ordered, sir. The security team over at Blackgate said she needed to be kept far away from the plant, or bad things would happen – she used it to murder people there, and make her escape."

"How many did she murder over there?" asked Dr. Bartholomew.

"I'd have to check, but I think it was only a couple guards on duty so they wouldn't notify anyone about her escape," replied the head of security.

"So she's mildly homicidal when she has the plant with her, and violently homicidal when she doesn't," sighed Dr. Bartholomew. "I'm afraid the former is the lesser of two evils, not that I like to call anything evil. But in terms of casualties, it's obviously better to have as few as possible. Ideally none, but that's not always a possibility here in Arkham."

He sighed heavily, and then headed back to his office, saying, "Let her keep the plant."


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh yeah, I remember my killing spree now," said Ivy in the present, nodding. "I've gone on so many that they all blur into one."

"This was the one where you stole my crowbar," muttered Joker. "Just like you probably stole my Twinkie."

"For the last time, I did not steal your damn Twinkie!" snapped Ivy. "And you got your crowbar back, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it's the principle of the thing," sniffed Joker. "And if you didn't steal my Twinkie, who did?"

"Nobody," said Harley, who had her arm stuck down the cabinet. "It's back here – it fell behind the drawer."

She pulled out a Twinkie covered in dust and cobwebs and what appeared to be dead insects. "Aw, thanks, Harl!" exclaimed Joker, taking it from her and promptly shoving it into his mouth. Everyone looked at him disgust. "What?" he demanded with his mouth full. "Oh, sorry, I should have offered to share – that was rude of me…" he said, reaching into his mouth.

"No, just…no!" exclaimed Ivy. "And don't talk with your mouth full, for God's sake!"

"Yes, I really can't abide bad manners," sighed Tetch.

"I ain't kissing you until you wash your mouth out, Mr. J," said Harley, wrinkling up her nose. "Not when it's gonna be all buggy and cobwebby."

"Fine by me," retorted Joker. "But I ain't gonna waste a Twinkie, and if you think I should just because it's a little dirty, then you're the crazy ones, not me."

"What's going on in here?" demanded Dr. Leland, entering the room. "What are you all doing out of your cells?"

"We were just looking through our old admission records, Doc," explained Joker.

"I never did find Joker's," said Ivy, who had reached the last folder. "And I've searched through all of them now. I guess it could have fallen behind the drawer like the Twinkie…"

"I'm telling you, I don't have one," said Joker. "I've always been in Arkham, and I always will be. I'm the caretaker."

"If you're the caretaker, you're doing a terrible job," retorted Dr. Leland.

"Or I'm taking care of the old place the way it should be taken care of," said Joker, nodding. "By being full of crazy people."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," sighed Dr. Leland. "Could you all please go back to your cells now? I can't make you – the guards are still on strike, and we haven't been able to negotiate a deal, but I'd really appreciate it if you did."

"Do you remember your first day here, Joan?" asked Harley. "We were all just reminiscing about ours."

"Oh yes," said Dr. Leland. "It was a long time ago, but I remember it very clearly. I was here as a junior doctor a long time before I was made head, as you all probably know. But then after Dr. Bartholomew's sudden demise, they just promoted the next head in line for the chopping block, as they called it, which was me."

"Did Dr. Bartholomew hire you?" asked Ivy.

"No, I was working here just before he became head," said Dr. Leland. "He took over from Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, who originally hired me. He was the descendant of old Amadeus himself. It was kinda a nepotistic role up until Bartholomew took over, but Jeremiah didn't have any heirs, and even if he had, I would have thought the Arkham clan would have finally decided they'd lost enough family members to this place."

"What was Dr. Arkham like?" asked Ivy. "He was clearly before our time, except for maybe J."

"Yes, Joker was here when I started," said Dr. Leland, nodding. "Dr. Arkham warned me about him."

"He's the guy who shoulda come with a health warning," retorted Joker. "He heard voices and everything."

"Yes, Dr. Arkham was…eccentric," said Dr. Leland, slowly.

"The word you're looking for is psychotic," supplied Joker. "He shoulda been locked up in here if anyone should."

"I think it was the nature of the role of head doctor being passed on through the Arkham family for generations," explained Dr. Leland. "That came with a lotta pressure and responsibility from an early age. He had this vision of himself as being Gotham's protector, and needing to cleanse her of the madness which infected her. I think he wanted to live up to Amadeus's vision, and with hereditary expectations like that…well, it's not always healthy. Especially when it drove your ancestor crazy."

"Did it drive him crazy too?" asked Harley.

Dr. Leland looked at Joker. "Sort of…but he…met a different fate. On my first day here, in fact."

"What a coincidence!" exclaimed Joker, beaming. "And we can hear all about it! C'mon, Doc, your turn for a trip down memory lane."

Dr. Leland sighed. "I guess I have nothing else to do until the strikers back down," she said, taking a seat.

"Oh, you want me to go break their picket, and their backs?" asked Joker, grinning.

"No, definitely not!" snapped Dr. Leland. "I sympathize with them, but I really don't have the power to give in to their demands. There's no way I can guarantee better, safer working conditions, because I can't tell them their lives aren't going to be on the line every day – that's just the nature of the job. So they're just putting me in an untenable position."

"Want me to put them in an untenable position?" asked Joker.

"No!" exclaimed Dr. Leland. "Just sit down and listen!"

"I don't need to listen – I was there," retorted Joker. "And I wanna check out the strike."

"Joker, sit down!" demanded Dr. Leland. "Joker, come back here! Joker!" she called, as he headed out of the room, ignoring her. She sighed. "Well, I can't make him do anything without the guards," she muttered. "And probably not even then, as Dr. Arkham found out to his cost."

**Joan Leland, MD – Day 1**

"You wanted to see the new hire, sir?" said the guard, pushing open the door to Dr. Arkham's office.

"Of course, Dr. Leland, please come in," said Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, standing up and smiling as he shook her hand. "I'm so pleased to see you again, and so glad you accepted our offer of employment. We really need passionate, dedicated people here who are willing to go above and beyond with our inmates, and I certainly think you fit that description."

"Well, your offer was more than generous, as was your benefits package," said Dr. Leland. "I would have been crazy not to accept."

Dr. Arkham's smile looked a little more forced. "Yes," he said, sitting down at his desk opposite her. "You're relatively new to Gotham, aren't you?"

"That's right – I just moved here a couple months ago from Philadelphia," said Dr. Leland, nodding. "Is that a problem?"

"No, only…you might not be as familiar with our inmates as people who have lived here their whole lives," said Dr. Arkham, slowly. "These patients have…inflicted themselves upon the people of this city for a long time…too long, in some cases. We have to make our offers of employment here beneficial enough to compensate for that risk."

"Of course I understand that…" began Dr. Leland.

"I don't think you do," interrupted Dr. Arkham. "Not fully, I mean. You probably understand intellectually, but you don't really…understand."

"I'm not sure what you mean," said Dr. Leland, puzzled.

Dr. Arkham leaned back. "I don't know how familiar you are with the history of this facility, Dr. Leland, but it was built by my great-great grandfather, Dr. Amadeus Arkham, to house the criminally insane, including the murderer of his wife and child, Martin Hawkins, otherwise known as Mad Dog. My grandfather believed that these kinds of people could never really be rehabilitated into society, that they were too far gone to ever really interact normally with humanity ever again, so he built this facility to keep them locked up entirely separate from the public at large. Of course he tried to help them, and over the years every doctor in here has tried to help them, but there's really very little hope of any of these inmates ever being rehabilitated enough to be released. We all try, of course, which is all we can do, but our goal here is more containment and survival than any kind of healing. Mostly your interactions with the inmates will be focused on you, and making sure you're doing nothing to upset them or provoke them into violence, which is very easily done. I recommend avoiding asking them personal questions, for instance, or reminding them of the vigilante Batman, which is the reason why most of them are in here. But our primary concern here is not their progress, but rather keeping them safely locked away in here, and keeping Gotham safe from them."

"Then…why do you need passionate, dedicated people who are willing to go above and beyond?" asked Dr. Leland, slowly.

"Because our inmates can be very crafty and cunning," explained Dr. Arkham. "We need people of their intelligence or above in order to outsmart them, and outthink them. We need passionate, dedicated, clever people to stop them from breaking out and inflicting terror upon Gotham, however it takes."

"However it takes?" repeated Dr. Leland. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that. I would hope we're not encouraged to harm the inmates…"

"That's an interesting word, isn't it?" interrupted Dr. Arkham. "Harm. One could argue that harm is what these criminals inflict upon Gotham by their very presence, and the best thing to do to prevent harm would be to remove their presence forever. Passionate, dedicated, driven, intelligent people find solutions to problems, after all, solutions that less intelligent people might find abhorrent. But necessary solutions nevertheless. I think you take my meaning."

"Maybe I'm not intelligent enough to understand what you're talking about," said Dr. Leland. "Because it sounds like you're talking about…exterminating the inmates."

"Exterminating is a word," agreed Dr. Arkham, nodding. "That's what one does to pests, parasitic creatures who bring nothing but destruction. That's what these people are in a way. But extermination also implies a mass scale of slaughter, and that is not what we do here, nor is it ever right that anyone should treat fellow human beings in that way. We are not monsters, Dr. Leland – we are healers, and bringers of mercy. Both to the people of Gotham, and to the poor, incurable souls who are beyond any mortal's help. When we have tried and tried our hardest, but realize there is nothing else we can do but put the patient out of his misery, for his own good, and for the good of the city, then it is our solemn responsibility to live up to that duty. Such treatment, while perhaps initially shocking, would be akin to the treatment of a beloved pet, once it's become rabid and dangerous. In a civilized society, we put down dangerous animals, and that's what these people are. I am thinking of one mad dog in particular who has been unleashed and rabid for far too long," he murmured, his face becoming hard and cruel.

"Surely…those decisions of execution are for the courts to decide…" began Dr. Leland, slowly.

"The courts shield these people," interrupted Dr. Arkham. "They refuse to pass judgment and instead pass them on to us – they make them our problem because they're too cowardly to do what must be done. They pass on the responsibility to us to feed them and clothe them and keep them securely locked away, and then hound us when we fail. No, someone has to take a stand, otherwise the chaos will continue, and innocents will suffer. The Batman, flawed as he is, realizes that. He brings them here, but like the courts he passes the hard decisions on to us. A man in a mask will always ultimately be too cowardly to take responsibility for either himself or his ideals, which is why he hides them. It is up to us, the intelligent, the educated, the learned, with knowledge gleaned from both our reading and our experience, to make the tough decisions that those less intelligent and less courageous cannot or will not make. Being an intelligent person yourself, you obviously understand this, which is why I am pleased that you are joining us. Someone with all your skills will not hesitate in doing what needs to be done."

Dr. Leland gulped. "I…uh…I'm not sure I'm entirely on board with these ideas…and if I have to be in order to work here, I might have to refuse your generous offer after all."

"That's because you don't understand yet," he said. "But you will learn. Come, I'll show you," he said, standing up. "I'll show you the mad dog, and you tell me if putting him down isn't the only solution left. He's inflicted himself upon us and upon Gotham for too long, far too long. Amadeus couldn't cure him, and neither can I. But I can do what Amadeus never could, and indeed, I am honor bound to do so."

"Amadeus…lived like a hundred and fifty years ago, right?" asked Dr. Leland, slowly. "You can't have a patient in here who is as old as that…"

"He's always been here, in some form or another," interrupted Dr. Arkham. "Laughing at me, mocking me, with that horrible laugh and that cruel smile on his face. If not the Mad Dog himself, then the ghost of him, or his skeleton, with his unnatural white bone-flesh and his rictus death grin on his skull. Skeleton, ghost, monster, demon, whatever he is, he needs to be put down and ended. Only we can do this – only we are unbiased and unfettered by the primitive emotions of pity and sympathy. We have to overcome these weaker feelings, to bring forth a righteous and more prosperous future for all the people of Gotham. It's the only way – intellect and order is the only way to overcome brute savagery and unfettered chaos."

Dr. Leland followed Dr. Arkham out of his office and to the cell block of Arkham Asylum. "Look at him!" announced Dr. Arkham, pointing into a cell. "Look upon the face of eternal evil!"

Dr. Leland obeyed, and saw the Joker staring at his reflection in the mirror in his cell, trying to pick something out of his teeth. "Goddamn spinach," he muttered to himself, as his fingernail scratched between his eyeteeth. "I know Popeye is a fan, but I've never had that super strength thing he gets, and frankly, I'm about to give up hope of that ever happening – tasting it between your teeth for weeks afterward just isn't worth it."

"Yeah, he's…terrifying," said Dr. Leland, slowly.

"He wants you to think he's an amusing buffoon," replied Dr. Arkham. "A harmless clown, just like his appearance implies, but he's an excellent actor. That creature, that monster, has murdered thousands down through the centuries!"

"He can't be older than fifty…" began Dr. Leland.

"Fifty!" exclaimed Joker, rounding on her. "I'm a little insulted, sweetheart, I don't mind telling you! I ain't over the hill just yet, and hopefully I got a few good years before a mid-life crisis hits! So just keep your opinions about my age to yourself!"

"Ok, well, you definitely haven't been around for centuries, unless you're a vampire or something," retorted Dr. Leland. "And last I checked, vampires don't eat spinach."

"Hey, you're looking for a vampire in this town, and you might as well look at the guy who actually dresses up like a bat," retorted Joker. "He's got the cape and everything."

"I actually don't believe in vampires," said Dr. Leland. "Or demons, or ghosts, or living skeletons, or whatever else you think this man is," she said, turning to Dr. Arkham.

"I don't think – I know!" exclaimed Dr. Arkham. "He's vexed me and my family through the ages – he is our curse for failing to keep Gotham safe! An immortal criminal lunatic, one who will never stop inflicting terror and destruction upon this town until someone in my family has the courage to stop him, however it takes!"

"Look, Dr. Arkham, I'm really not comfortable working here when you believe things like this," said Dr. Leland. "I'm sure this man just needs help, the same as every other inmate in here…"

"He can't be helped, and he laughs at those who try!" exclaimed Dr. Arkham. "He has always been here, and he knows what I know – that he's an eternal curse upon the people of Gotham! He'll never stop trying to play his sick jokes on them, and he can't be stopped unless he's stopped permanently. And he knows the Batman will never have the guts to do that, but someone must. Someone must," he repeated, resolutely.

"Bet you never thought you'd be working _for _lunatics, as well as with 'em, eh, Doc?" chuckled Joker, smiling at Dr. Leland. "You gotta love old Doc Arkham's paranoid delusions – I blame it on family inbreeding. A lotta well-off families engaged in that kinda thing back in the day, and look where it's got 'em. Probably explains why Bruce Wayne's such a waste of space too, and we've all seen how physically and mentally malformed the Cobblepot's offspring has turned out."

"Don't you dare talk about my family after you murdered them!" shouted Dr. Arkham.

"He doesn't have a family – he's channeling his ancestor again, and thinking I'm this Mad Dog guy," explained Joker. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Doc, I've probably killed a lotta people's families. But the people he's obsessing about have been gone for a couple centuries – there's no use crying over spilled blood, especially when the blood has long since dried. Frankly, it's a little insulting – I've caused enough chaos and madness as myself, and I don't like being blamed from somebody else's crimes, especially when those crimes probably weren't funny in the first place. Like if my nickname were Mad Dog, I'd kill people by biting 'em to death, or infecting them with rabies or something. But that's not what he did, because he had no sense of humor, or according to Doc A, _I_ had no sense of humor, which would be pretty impossible to look at me…"

"You see how his words try to poison the mind?" interrupted Dr. Arkham. "You see how he twists people's views and ideas? You see how he dismisses perfectly rational conclusions and tries to make you believe you're the crazy one? He's a dangerous man, and if he's allowed to continue to live, he'll end up poisoning the entire profession to side with his cause! He'll have a doctor sympathize with him, and help him escape one day, mark my words! He'll break their minds so completely that they'll begin to see his insane ramblings as sense!"

"Well, that's not gonna be me," said Dr. Leland, firmly. "And even if he is as dangerous as you say, he still deserves a chance to live, and to heal. That's our job, and it's a difficult job, but we can't just give up when it becomes too hard. That's no way to do anything in life. And we also can't just resort to murdering people because it seems like it would be easier, or somehow rationalize it into being right. I'm sorry, Dr. Arkham, but if this is the kind of thing that's being condoned here, I'm not only going to have to refuse this job, but I'm also going to have to go to the police."

"I think you won't," retorted Dr. Arkham. "And I think even if you do, they won't care. Everyone in the Gotham City Police Department is fed up with these lunatics – they would thank me for performing the service of taking them off the streets forever."

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" asked Dr. Leland. "Thank you for the offer of employment, but I'm afraid I must refuse it. But I guess since I'm technically already hired, take this as my two weeks notice, although I won't be back. Have a nice day," she said, heading toward the door.

"You'll regret your weakness!" shouted Dr. Arkham after her. "Every person he kills will be on your head! Just like they've been on mine for far too long! But it ends now," he muttered, removing a syringe from his pocket and unlocking Joker's cell.

"Oh my God, you're actually going to…" began Dr. Leland, trailing off as she realized it was far too late for words. She threw open the door to the cell block. "Hurry up and get in here!" she shouted to the guards. "Dr. Arkham needs to be restrained before he does something rash!"

"Too late for that," commented Joker, smiling at Dr. Arkham. "Go ahead, take your best shot, pal. Get it? Best shot?" he chuckled, nodding at the syringe.

"This is an act of mercy," growled Dr. Arkham. "I am putting down a mad dog."

"You keep telling yourself that, buddy," retorted Joker. "But the joke on you is thinking you're better than me, because if you kill me, you'll be just as guilty as I am. Well, give or take a few thousand deaths," he added, waving his hand.

Dr. Arkham lunged forward, but Joker stepped out of the way and shot his leg out, tripping him up. He fell face-first into the mirror, shattering it, and Joker grabbed him by the back of the collar, hoisting him up.

"See it?" Joker whispered. "See the cracks in your own mind there? The broken reflection of your own brain? Look at how shattered your soul is. So who's the mad dog to be put down now?"

Joker injected the syringe into Dr. Arkham's neck just as the guards arrived, too late to stop it. They and Dr. Leland could only watch in horror as Joker released Dr. Arkham, who clutched at his heart as it slowly stopped beating. His body fell to the ground, and Joker looked up and smiled.

"Happy first day, Doc!" he chuckled. "Better get used to this kinda thing if you're gonna be sticking around here! And now that the real crazy guy's been put down, you will stick around, right?"

Dr. Leland said nothing, heading over to examine the body as the guards restrained Joker. "Yeah, he's dead," she sighed. "Who's the next senior doctor here?"

"I guess Dr. Bartholomew?" asked the guard, looking at his companion.

"Can you get him?" asked Dr. Leland. "I'm sure he'll need to speak to the police, who should also be called. I'll go do that – there's a phone in Dr. Arkham's office," she said, heading back the way she had come.

While it had been horrifying to watch a man being murdered before her eyes, Dr. Leland was surprised to find how calm she was considering the circumstances. That might indicate a psychological problem on her end, her brain reminded her, but she had always been the kind of person to confront problems and deal with situations head on, to act first and then deal with the emotional fallout afterward. It was why she had felt relatively comfortable applying for a job in a high stress and dangerous environment. She had the ability to, temporarily at least, emotionally disconnect from the situation and look at the practical side of things.

So she calmly called the police, and explained the situation. As she hung up the phone, the door opened. "Dr. Leland?" asked a voice, as a man in a lab coat stepped into the office.

"That's me – the police are on their way," she said.

"Thank you for doing that," said the man. "I'm Dr. Bartholomew – you might remember me from your interview," he said, shaking her hand. "I suppose I'm the head of this facility now," he sighed. "It's always unfortunate to meet under tragic circumstances, isn't it?"

"More unfortunate to witness those tragic circumstances, but yes," agreed Dr. Leland, nodding.

"I cannot apologize enough for you having received such a horrible welcome on your first day," said Dr. Bartholomew, sincerely. "I am aware that such a horrendous experience has undoubtedly made you question your employment here, and you will certainly not be forced to retain this job. We are also going to offer you therapy free of charge, though naturally outside this environment lest it conjure up traumatic memories…"

"That's very kind of you to offer, Dr. Bartholomew, but I'd actually like to remain working as a doctor here, if I may," interrupted Dr. Leland. "I think the people in here are obviously very disturbed, and I think they need a lot of help. I'd like to try to help them."

"You honestly think you can?" asked Dr. Bartholomew. "I don't mean that unkindly, only…these are not the kind of people who I believe can be changed, nor turned from their violent paths."

"I think we have to hope they can be," said Dr. Leland.

"I respect your opinion, of course, and your hope," said Dr. Bartholomew, nodding. "But if I can be quite candid, I think it is a misguided hope. Only someone as crazy as the Joker would see hope in someone as crazy as the Joker. Indeed, only someone as crazy as he is would stick around after witnessing him brutally murder a fellow doctor."

Dr. Leland looked at him. "You know, then I guess I must be crazy too," she murmured. "Because I will be sticking around."


	8. Chapter 8

"Of course it turns out in hindsight that Dr. Arkham was correct," finished Dr. Leland in the present day. "Not about Joker being a ghost, but about him breaking a doctor's mind," she added, nodding at Harley.

"And maybe about him being a ghost, if he really doesn't have an admittance file," commented Crane. "Maybe he _has _always been here, haunting this place and this city."

"Mr. J ain't a ghost," snapped Harley. "Take it from me, he's flesh and blood. A whole lotta beautiful flesh and blood," she sighed adoringly.

"Good news, Doc – the strike's broken!" exclaimed Joker, re-entering the room. "Or at least, the strikers are! Literally!"

"Oh God, why would you do that?" groaned Dr. Leland, standing up. "You think I don't have enough to deal with here, is that it? You think it's funny to pile more paperwork and lawsuits on my desk?"

"There's nothing funny about paperwork," retorted Joker. "But lawsuits, sure, those are pretty funny. Particularly when they're frivolous."

"I guess there was some joke about killing Dr. Arkham on my first day too, although I'm sure I've never seen the funny side," sighed Dr. Leland.

"The joke was that he was the crazy inmate who got put down instead of me," retorted Joker. "Surely that was obvious? I didn't time the punchline specifically for your first day, Doc, but I couldn't exactly put it off anymore when he was gonna kill me. Sometimes self-preservation requires cutting the joke a little short, especially when you've got an unappreciative audience anyway. Besides, it was the only way to be sure of you."

"Be sure of me?" repeated Dr. Leland.

"Sure," said Joker, shrugging. "Nobody ever invites me to sit in during the interview for a new shrink, and they really should. The patients are the people who are gonna be dealing with 'em for the majority of the time, after all, and they should check to make sure the patients are compatible with 'em. If they had, we never woulda got stuck with Doc Arkham in the first place. There was a man who never met a lunatic he couldn't despise. But the kinda people we want and need in here are people who are compassionate and understanding, calm in the face of a crisis, who deal with tragedy in a rational manner, and who don't try to murder patients just because they're sick of dealing with 'em. We got a lotta irrational nutjobs in here – the last thing we need is the doctors being irrational nutjobs too. And I can spot crazy a mile off. If I'd have sat in on Harley's interview, for instance, you'd never have hired her."

"Then aren't you glad you didn't?" asked Harley. "Because if Joan hadn't hired me, we never woulda met, and the greatest love story of all time would never have happened."

"Are you seriously calling yourself the greatest love story of all time?" demanded Ivy.

"Name a better one," retorted Harley.

"Literally any other love story," retorted Ivy. "Since your story isn't a love story – it's a terrible warning of manipulation and abuse."

"No, that's you, Weed Freak," retorted Joker. "Just because your romances all turn out to be horrible, manipulative affairs, don't go tarring everyone with the same brush."

"Yeah, some people still believe in love," agreed Two-Face.

"You're really gonna side with them, Harvey?" demanded Ivy. "You think it was bad when I tried to kill you – he tries to kill her on a daily basis!"

"And sometimes I try to kill him too," spoke up Harley.

"Yeah, it's just a little game we have," sighed Joker. "That's just how we love."

"I believe love is accepting others as they are, not how we wish them to be," said Tetch, nodding slowly. "I've learned that in here, actually. Out there, I thought I could control people, and mold them into the kind of people I'd like them to be, like Alice. But I realize that's not love – that's possessive and controlling behavior. I'm not hugely comfortable defending Joker and Harley, but I think if both people in a relationship are happy, and accept each other for who they are without trying to change them, then no matter what outsiders think about them, it's probably the definition of healthy."

"Just because he's not mind-controlling her doesn't mean it's healthy!" snapped Crane. "And perhaps he is – perhaps he's brainwashed her, and the poor girl's a victim!"

"Hey, I'm right here!" snapped Harley. "And I'm no victim! Harley Quinn is who I am! The Joker's Harley Quinn," she sighed, cuddling Joker tenderly.

"As a psychiatrist, I have to sort of agree with Jervis," sighed Dr. Leland. "Whatever my personal feelings about them, or about any of you, there's very little I can do to change you. What I have to do is accept you all for who you are, and help you work within that framework to develop a better, healthier life for yourselves. I can't erase your identities any more than any of you can – Ivy won't just suddenly stop liking plants, for instance. And Harley won't just magically stop loving the Joker. I have to accept what I can't change about you, and support your good points, so that hopefully you can discover a road to recovery leading to a semblance of normalcy. I mean, you'll always be eccentric, but lots of eccentric people live normal lives without hurting innocent people. I think most of you could do that, if you tried."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" asked Joker. "Living normal lives is so boring, and hurting innocent people is always an enjoyable punchline."

"Besides, you have Batman out there hurting innocent people," agreed Crane. "Why should he have the right to do that when we can't? What makes him superior to us?"

"Yeah, he started it," agreed Two-Face. "He started taking the law into his own hands. Why can't we?"

"Look, you know I'm not a huge fan of Batman," snapped Dr. Leland. "But unfortunately he's not under my care, and you people are. Again, I've gotta work with what and who I've got."

"But you've also got to bear in mind that you're in Gotham," said Joker. "The craziest, most violent city in America, and that's saying a lot, ruled over by a bully in a bat costume. Becoming an insane supervillain is just a coping mechanism."

"Yes, quite right," agreed Crane, nodding. "The only way to stop bullies is to stand up to them, not kowtow and surrender."

"The problem is, he doesn't see himself as a bully," replied Dr. Leland. "I've offered to help him time and time again, but he always refuses. He doesn't think he has a problem, just like most of you don't. But honestly, I think he could use some intensive therapy to help him deal with whatever Bat-demons he's facing."

"Can you imagine Batsy's first day in here?" chuckled Joker. "Everyone trying to kill him, and him still being all brooding and self-righteous? I tell ya, that would be a joke worth doing if there's some way we could get him formally committed. Maybe frame him for a crime or something."

"He has too many friends in law enforcement," muttered Two-Face. "Trust me, he's untouchable within the bounds of the law. Which is why we have to go outside them."

"And he's pretty untouchable there too," retorted Ivy. "God knows we've all tried time after time to kill him, with no success."

"Lots of almost successes though," said Crane. "One of these days he's bound to fall."

"Maybe," said Joker, shrugging. "Still, you guys all know what the definition of insanity is, right?"

"Yes, that's why you're all in here," sighed Dr. Leland.

"And yet, conventional wisdom also states that if at first you don't succeed, try, try again," spoke up Tetch.

"Yeah, you can't go wrong with overused cliches," agreed Harley, nodding. "Speaking of which, all work and no play makes Mr. J a dull boy," she said, cuddling him. "You wanna have some playtime, puddin'?"

"No, you've still got therapy to attend, Harley," snapped Dr. Leland, taking her arm and pulling her reluctantly away. "And I'd ask that the rest of you go back to your cells, please. I know I can't force you, but if you do this as a personal favor to me, I'll try and take a look at the cafeteria menus and get you something exciting for next week."

"Works for me," said Ivy, shrugging. "Just so long as it's not plant-based."

"Or fish," said Harley.

"I would prefer something sweet, like tea cakes," said Tetch. "Though definitely not a Twinkie – I never had any desire to experience those, and that's only been reinforced by recent events."

"Yes, yes, you all have special requests," sighed Dr. Leland, following them back to the cell block. "This place is more like a hotel for the mentally disturbed that caters to your every whim. We do have standards to uphold, you know."

"Yeah, as we've learned from all these stories, this place has always been so professional," said Joker, grinning. "Never a little murder or mutilation ever. I tell ya, I think I've been an excellent caretaker of this madhouse," he said, smiling at the cells. "I think Doc Arkham the first would be really proud of the great job I've done. All the psychos and maniacs locked up in here…except one, of course. Except Batman."

He chuckled as he entered his cell. "But hey, maybe he'll be in here too someday! A guy can dream, and I do!"

"I don't," sighed Dr. Leland, as she led Harley back to her office. "One more psychopath with delusions of grandeur is the last thing I need in here. But the first thing I need to do is call the police, and survey Joker's damage," she sighed, heading for the telephone. "He's always leaving me to clean up his mess."

"Or me," said Harley, nodding. "But look on the bright side, Joan – at least you always knew what you were getting yourself in for. And at least Mr. J has never killed you, or threatened you with violence. He's a nice guy at heart, you see."

"Yes, obviously," sighed Dr. Leland, dialing 911. "Because nice guys murder people all the time."

"It's for a good cause – it was so the strike would be broken, and you and I could get back to therapy," said Harley, shrugging. "You gotta look beyond the superficial with Mr. J to get to the real heart of him. Which is warm and generous," she sighed, adoringly.

"And still beating, unlike the people he's killed," retorted Dr. Leland. "Yes, hello, it's Dr. Leland over at Arkham again," she said, as the operator answered the phone. "We need a unit over here ASAP. Yes, the usual suspects. I'm not sure how many are dead yet, but I'd be prepared for a lot. Ok, bye," she said, hanging up the phone. "It's kinda sad how routine that's become now," she added.

"Now Joan, as a shrink, you know routine is a good thing," said Harley, smiling. "It grounds you, and gives you a sense of purpose, and makes you feel like you belong."

"In a madhouse," finished Dr. Leland, nodding. "You know what, maybe I do, Harley. Maybe I do."

**The End**


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